


Heart of the Island

by shadowsplay



Category: Lost
Genre: Dark Character, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Healing, M/M, Male Character of Color, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Polyamory, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spiritual, Threesome - M/M/M, Transformation, Wordcount: Over 100.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:28:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 79
Words: 104,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsplay/pseuds/shadowsplay
Summary: HEART OF THE ISLANDA m/m slash fanfic novel based upon the TV series 'Lost'Survivors of a plane crash live on a mysteriously uncharted island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean“Will you love me, Sayid?” Jacob whispered, again bringing his lips to his, pressing into their ample softness, parting as their tongues touched and a connection of rippling fire claimed Sayid from within, his tongue and his body arching as the subtle beginning of the final contortions of loving, of spines arching and pleasure building with each moment of fire, and finding the source of that fire, the promise of ultimate union and pleasure.Two brothers have served and protected the Island for many hundreds of years.One of the survivors, Sayid Jarrah, is fated to be possessed by them both;one through love, and the other through darkness.
Relationships: Jacob/Sayid Jarrah, Jacob/The Man in Black (Lost), Sayid Jarrah/The Man in Black
Kudos: 4





	1. An interloper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
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> 
> 
> # Heart of the Island Trilogy
> 
> #### A m/m slash fanfic novel in three parts  
>  based upon the TV series 'Lost'
> 
> #### By shadowsplay

#### Dramatis personæ: Sayid Jarrah, The Man in Black/James, Jacob, Benjamin Linus

# BOOK ONE: Sayid

“Sayid,” said a male voice, someplace near, a soft voice compared to the raucous sounds of the island birds discussing the coming day.

Instantly Sayid was alert, alarmed by a strange voice, his hand finding his weapon, finger firm on the trigger guard. The response was instinctual, and brought back memories of Iraq. No, he was on an island, far from his home.

Sayid waited, listening, then gently rolled very slightly in his bed, as though simply shifting in his sleep, ready to roll either way in an instant if needed.

“Sayid...” the voice seemed nearer now, and he willed himself to remain completely relaxed as he appeared to raise a barely alert head, blinking through his hair. It was only just light, light enough to see where the voice was coming from.

He moved quickly off the low bunk, crouching across from a man he had never seen before, somehow already in the tent and sitting next to his clothes. In a few moments of disciplined observation, Sayid took in the man's stance, body size, empty hands and quiet demeanor. Somehow he knew the man was not one the Others, the people who had settled the other side of the Island long before he and the members of his little camp had survived the plane crash that stranded them here, castaways on a mysteriously uncharted island somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

There were several moments of silence. Sayid held the handgun pointing down, in plain view, his finger still on the trigger guard. He was relaxed, but poised for movement as he watched the man closely.

“Who are you?” Sayid finally asked, his voice controlled, with a lilt of very slight emphasis to acknowledge the skill of the interloper. _I'm slipping_... he chided himself for leaving his clothes out of arms reach.

The stranger kept his hands relaxed, also in plain view.

“You will know my name soon, but first... I have a favor to ask.”

“Go on...” Sayid waved his chin slightly, so that some of his black curls suddenly tumbled down from their bed time perch atop his head.

The man laughed, smiling, then settled back into a quiet calm. “Tell me the name of the person that you most trust in this world, someone who you knew, before this island.”

Of course Sayid knew who this was. “And why should I do that?” he asked, eyeing his hostage clothes.

The man laughed again, then slowly handed Sayid his pants. Sayid held them for a moment, then placed the handgun on the little table at his right elbow, out of the stranger's reach but still in view, then stood to pull on his pants.

The man smiled, supremely relaxed, yet obviously full of purpose. He looked around the tent as though he was already greatly fond of it. He looked back at Sayid with the same apparent sentiment.

“And so we begin.” ** ******

[ **CHAPTER TWO: Be like father** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57379906)

“My brother knows I have chosen you, Sayid. My brother came first to assess your loyalty, your ability to love, _how_ you love.” The man smiled, looking into Sayid's eyes with such sincere affection that Sayid had to will himself not to look away. “Now I am sure as well. But my brother has seen what is hidden in you. He will challenge your time of immense darkness, to see if it still waits, _to see if you still reach for it_."

#  Ω

_**A NOTE TO MY REGULAR, FAITHFUL READERS (I love you): I wrote the Heart of the Island before my magnum opus,[Dark Shadows Play](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868891/chapters/35337951/)** _

#### My most recent novel, Dark Shadows Play is a m/m slash vampire themed fanfic with real BDSM, based upon the original TV series 'Dark Shadows.' A tender and romantic novel of transformation by love, often explicit, sometimes fierce, with some nonconsensual vampire violence.

#  [Dark Shadows Play](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868891/chapters/35337951/)

By Shadowsplay

> **"Barnabas pulled Willie's back tight against him, reaching around him to lightly caress the most vulnerable places on his chest and belly, just touching Willie's growing erection, gauging his arousal. Grasping him gently, he began to move his hand on him, feeling Willie becoming very full at this unexpected pleasuring. Barnabas knew many subtle secrets to pleasuring Willie with his hand, and very soon Willie was arching on his feet, trying to hold still for him in spite of this pleasuring. Barnabas stopped. He knew that he had Willie's complete attention, a fullness of anticipation."**
> 
> **"Barnabas was aware of the scent of Willie's breath returning from perfect intimacy with the blood in his lungs. He pictured Willie bound and helpless, needing only love and mercy, chastened by pain for being so beautiful, and by taking the pain, made more beautiful still."**

> **"There was a clarion silence after the sounds of a person coming undone. Barnabas felt a profound silence for hours, for days after it. It was a spiritual state, and he did not take it lightly. Willie was also silent as he returned from his undoing, as he was rebuilt by his ego, the strong ego of a submissive, always knowing and trusting that he was precious and well taken care of, that he had been taken there and brought back, cherished and loved with profound admiration, and earning a certain, sacred trust and obligation."**


	2. Be like father

Sayid relaxed into the tired old chair in his tent and scrutinized his auspicious visitor in the growing light. He was clearly not one of the Others, and Sayid sensed no threat from him. The man was in his middle years, apparently of medium height and slight of build, with blond, scruffy hair and beard, blue eyes, and pale, white skin. His clothes were rough and seemed hand made. His hands were also rough, and he was barefoot. He had a patient, almost resigned air about him that Sayid was happy to ascribe to an unwavering benevolence. The man seemed to be on an errand of import, but was pacing himself so slowly that Sayid guessed the goal to be a long ways off.

Trained as a soldier, Sayid had continued to keep the location of the nearby handgun foremost in his consciousness lest it become a liability in the event of a surprise. He now leaned a little forward and put it in the back waist of his pants so he could focus all of his attention on what the man was about to say.

“You were saying...” Sayid prompted as he settled back into the chair, offering the upper hand in the conversation, ready to gather information from this strange, enigmatic man.

The man did not move. His lack of movement was very noticeable. “There is another on this island that you have not met, someone besides me,” the man began. “He has visited you, but he was disguised as someone you knew, from before the Island.”

Immediately Sayid thought of his brother, the memory still vivid. Days ago, his brother as a boy had so suddenly stood before him, near nightfall, the beheaded chicken by the legs in his hand, the blood dripping into the thick grass. His brother held the lifeless chicken out to him, and Sayid had clearly heard three words in his brother's voice before he seemed to slip sideways into nothingness.

“Be like father,” his brother had said.

When Sayid had touched the grass, there was no blood. He still felt that it was real.

The man joined Sayid's memory as though he also saw his brother's unmoving lips, heard his brother's voice, felt the cool grass with no blood.

“The child that you saw was my brother, not yours,” the man offered.

 _How does he know? That it was my brother, a child?_ Sayid wondered. 

“How could that be?” Sayid asked. “How could your brother appear as mine?”

“We both have that power,” the man said with a frank tone of warning in his voice. He added with emphasis, “I will never approach you in that way.”

Sayid remembered the moment, and the words, _be like father_. The words he had said to his brother, to try to help him to become strong.

Sayid's father had been so cruel, and capable of spirit crushing acts of violence on a whim, strong at the expense of others. His brother had never managed to overcome the weakness their father attacked in him. But Sayid had learned to increase his own hatred and defense against cruel strength, to protect his brother, and so to act so against others. He became like his father. _Cruelty is passed on so..._ he thought. _I learned how to break others, finding it pleasing. And at last... I learned to kill with no regret._

The man was waiting. Then he seemed to straighten just a little in his chair.

 _Finally_... Sayid thought. _Finally we begin._

“My brother knows I have chosen you, Sayid. My brother came first to assess your loyalty, your ability to love, _how_ you love.” The man smiled, looking into Sayid's eyes with such sincere affection that Sayid had to will himself not to look away. “Now I am sure as well. But my brother has seen what is hidden in you. He will challenge your time of immense darkness, to see if it still waits, to see if you will still reach for it."

 _How could he know_...? Sayid asked himself, feeling equally curious and dismayed about what the man might be referring to.

Their eyes remained locked until Sayid finally relaxed into this gaze, eye to eye. The man smiled again. He exuded a strange magnetism, a charisma that Sayid found himself wanting to possess, to follow. He had already checked this in himself out of habit. _Following_ was a spare luxury on this Island, with allegiances that shifted during a crisis. How he longed to serve someone who could truly lead. It had been so many many years...

“Will you tell me who you loved and trusted most before you came to the island, Sayid?” the man asked, patiently awaiting an answer. He watched Sayid closely, and Sayid thought that he was more interested in what showed in him as he answered than the answer itself.

 _Why does he still ask this question?_ Somehow Sayid knew the answer. _He learns what I must do inside to make the words._

 _I will not speak of him_ , Sayid thought, having never spoken of this wound with anyone. Again he told himself those early memories of love and trust were irrelevant because they were from his childhood.

 _Be honest_ , Sayid decided, setting his reluctance aside. _I want to find out who this man is, what he knows._ All Sayid had to go on was instinct, and he felt that he wanted to be honest, wanted to find out what would happen next. Still... it was not in his nature to betray such eagerness or trust. He waited a few moments, appearing to remain unsure.

Finally, he said simply, “My brother.”

**[CHAPTER THREE: My name is Jacob](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57379969) **

When the Island offered, he had learned to accept. What the Island revealed was usually something with its own logic, unfolding like a science fiction story or a faery tale, entirely on the Island's terms. He had learned that it was best to join with the unfolding mystery from the beginning, and be prepared to assume his place in it. Waiting and watching only meant his role would be more complicated when he finally stepped into it.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	3. My name is Jacob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **"I do, and I will," Sayid answered, holding Jacob's hand as he moved to the bunk, gazing upward as Jacob came to rest beside him, as they fell slowly into the little cot, into each other's embrace.**

“My brother,” Sayid answered the man's question in the simple voice of someone who was both telling the truth, and obviously awaiting further information from the listener. He willed himself to relax completely. He had yet detected no danger or deception in the man's face, eyes or body posture. Sayid sat back a little in the groaning old basket chair, stacking his bare feet together in the cold.

“You can trust me, Sayid,” the man said, handing him his shirt and sandals. Sayid took them, noticing the man's hands. He had large callouses on the inside of his thumbs. Sayid dropped his sandals, slipping them on, then laid his shirt on the bunk.

“I fish.” The man said. “I am a fisherman, and my name is Jacob.”

“And how do you know my name, Jacob?” Sayid countered, though he felt the last of his suspicion slipping away. _I can trust him..._

“You can trust me, Sayid,” the man said again. He seemed to await a certain response from Sayid.

The sounds of people awakening and moving about were drifting over to Sayid's tent, strategically placed alone beyond the trail from the beach. The door faced the trail, with open netting between his bed and the path into the jungle. If someone came or went by the usual means while he was in his tent, he was aware of these movements.

“How did you get into my tent?” he asked, curious how his movements hadn't awakened him.

“I came in by the door,” Jacob said, laughing, smiling with his eyes. “I truly think it is because you sensed no danger in me that you did not wake... until I was ready to talk. I think that you have been waiting for me, you have expected me for some time now.”

 _Could that really be true?_ Sayid thought as he frowned slightly.

At last the man relaxed his total focus on Sayid, obviously satisfied with the direction of their visit. He watched as Sayid stood up and pulled on his shirt, removing and then checking the safety, pulling the slide to check it was loaded and not jammed, then replacing his handgun as he tucked the shirt into the back of his pants. He slowly pulled his black curls through his hands, shaking and adjusting them onto the back of his head.

This is just one more _completely strange, opening up out of nowhere, Island_ _experience_ , he reflected, finally allowing himself a quiet smile and a little back and forth shake of his curls, looking up as he rolled his eyes slightly from the humor of the moment. None of the man's revelations made any logical sense to him. The reference to his brother's visit seemed to be about someone else, for he did not think of himself as a man of love, though he certainly understood loyalty.

Still, he had loved.... more than once. _My brother... how I loved you._

“I am going to leave soon, Sayid. We need to meet someplace away from your people. I am only known by more than name by those who have chosen the Island.”

“Tell me...” Sayid stood as Jacob rose from his seat.

Jacob stopped. Their faces were close to each other in the moist darkness at the top of the tent. It seemed their own little world there, with only the two men, eye to eye.

Jacob smiled, a great tenderness in his eyes as he slowly reached out with his right hand, lightly clasping the shorter man's muscular arm, rubbing his golden skin slightly.

Immediately Sayid was overcome with the memory from his youth. His older brother sent to slaughter a chicken, the beloved brother's tender heart and hesitation blistering Sayid with fear of their advancing father's fury. Sayid had quickly broken the chicken's neck while it still hung in his brother's hand. Too late. Their father behind them taunted his brother, calling Sayid a man, and Omer a boy. Omer's painful shame and desperate desire for their father's love burned him inside, burned like the familiar pain he saw in his brother's face, burning in him again, day after day.

He would have taken his brother's place without hesitation, bore his beloved brother's trials for him. But Sayid had no family. His brother was dead now, a casualty of endless war, and Sayid closed his eyes tightly, blessing him with the little prayer for his peace.

The memory had slipped away, and Sayid realized Jacob was still holding his arm, steadying him.

“Do you see why I might believe that you are capable of strong loyalty and love?” Jacob asked.

Sayid was so overcome he could only answer with a smile. Then, “will you tell me... how you know what it is that is in my mind?” Sayid's eyes clearly focused, openly revealed his need for understanding. Speaking more quietly as they stood together, their faces close, he could see a complex array of blue and gold in the color of the man's eyes. He could smell the man's sweat, and another scent, like moist clay. His breath smelled of honey, a familiar scent from Sayid's favorite childhood treat, an endless gift from the generous bees, who simply made more.

Sayid believed in the bees then, and he believed in this man now. When the Island offered, he had learned to accept. What the Island revealed was usually something with its own logic, unfolding like a science fiction story or a faery tale, entirely on the Island's terms. He had learned that it was best to join with the unfolding mystery from the beginning, and be prepared to assume his place in it. Waiting and watching only meant his role would be more complicated when he finally stepped into it.

Jacob seemed to have waited for Sayid to make his way to a new understanding. He leaned to Sayid slightly when he spoke again.

“You cannot know yet who you are to me, Sayid. Who we can be together.” Jacob's voice had a secretive, velvet quiet to the way he said “together,” his head tilting upwards slightly. “I will tell you now when and where to come to me, and then we will truly begin.” Sayid felt a portent of sorrow from the gently loosening grasp on Sayid's arm, a look of resolute promise on Jacob's face as with a firm downward nod of his head he dropped his hand away, and back to his side.

“I do not wish to wait,” Sayid was surprised at his own urgency. “I want to know who you are, and why you are here. You have something to tell me...” Sayid felt his own eyes open more, just slightly, showing there the need he felt and revealed to Jacob, so close to him.

“I know this, Sayid,” Jacob said with gentle emphasis, and for a moment, Sayid felt and saw in his mind the man's eyes pooling and swirling like the tide. _Oh my,_ he thought. _Is this truly a man? And I have already given him my heart._

"Must you leave? Stay with me. Tell me." Sayid registered the resolute tenderness he heard in his own voice. He reached tentatively for the man's hand, taking it into both of his own, caressing it tenderly. "Jacob," he added with a soothing tone in his voice. _We can be something simple together, now, before he leads me away from my what I know..._

"You understand me," Jacob said, happy, smiling almost shyly as he reached to Sayid's hair, caressing his face and curls. Sayid took Jacob's hand again as they shared a common gaze. Their eyes moved to their lips as they came together slowly, closing as they shared the softness of surrendered lips, as their heads fell so slightly sideways in a lilting dance of communicated pleasure.

"You know me," Jacob said as they returned to their shared gaze.

"I do, and I will," Sayid answered, holding Jacob's hand as he moved to the bunk, gazing upward as Jacob came to rest beside him, as they fell slowly into the little cot, into each other's embrace.

 _How strange this is,_ Sayid thought. _How wonderful_. He felt no conflict inside as the moment unfolded in a completely unexpected way. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, to give himself, to want someone so quickly. And to be with a _man_. Sayid reached to the tie above the net window, the flap released, the tent darker, the sounds of their breathing more intimate.

 _We are lovers, I have a lover. Jacob._ Sayid caressed the back of the man's head, pulling their heads and lips together, again.

"Love me, Sayid," Jacob whispered. Sayid sat up, and Jacob opened his shirt, his hands coming to rest on his chest, waiting.

Sayid gazed at Jacob's body, watching Jacob's hands between them, unfamiliar hands moving downward, untying Jacob's pants, slipping them down a little, revealing an unfamiliar fullness.

 _I am going to do this, I want this_... Sayid fell onto Jacob like a slow torrent of flesh to flesh, flesh dancing as he moved downward upon Jacob's body, bringing his lips to him, listening to the sharp intake of breath as his lips found their prize. Sayid remembered _other_ lips, how they had moved on him, what he had liked, and gave this to this new _other_ , guided by the lilting dance of hips, the sinuous dance of flesh upon pelvis and spine.

Sayid stopped and opened his lips, his throat, and breathed a long and heated outbreath on moist and sensitive genitals, grasping Jacob with his hand, moving the silky sheath of his foreskin as he sucked on the head of him, satisfied that the long sighs had become little explosions of sharper complaints, the body of flesh now rocking and contracting, stretching and contorting as Jacob came to his peak, hushing himself by biting the back of his hand.

 _How strange this is,_ Sayid thought as he sat up, looking down upon a collaborative ruin, a wildly relaxed man under him, his arms now above his head, his eyes closed, his face framed by Sayid's pillows. Sayid memorized a now familiar face as he listened to the sounds of the camp around his tent, unaware of the loving that had taken place within.

_How wonderful._

Still looking downward, Sayid felt that he had crashed upon a now familiar shore, something real and solid beneath him, a place and a person becoming more to him with each moment he was near.

Jacob opened his eyes. _So blue._ He reached to Sayid, who folded himself down onto newly familiar flesh encircling a quieting heart, still beating the sounding of an internal place of heat released, of release becoming the fierce dance of shared pleasure.

“Take this,” Jacob said. They were standing, finding each other again in the intimate space near the top of the tent. Somehow unnoticed in the man's left hand, Jacob lifted a simple brass compass, and offered it to Sayid.

The metal was warm in Sayid's hand, no doubt from being carried on Jacob's person. Sayid looked at the compass, which pointed north, then swirled a little, then pointed north again. Sayid knew that compasses only half-worked in the strong magnetism of the Island.

“Come to the beach of the shattered sentinel,” he instructed. “Bring with you enough food and supplies for several days. When you come to the beach, the compass will show the way you must follow. You will find a rocky path that leads to me. I will be waiting.

“When shall I come?” Sayid asked.

“You may choose,” Jacob's delight at Sayid's question seemed to him very close to becoming a sigh. “You must come alone, I cannot bring or lead you. My brother may test you again, and he may try to deceive you. But he cannot harm you, for you are under my protection. You have been under my protection for a long while now. We have both been waiting for you.”

Jacob smiled, and Sayid felt honest gratitude. He believed Jacob, and felt a rush of simple pleasure in the realization that he trusted him completely. _The Island at work..._ The Island was like a person, an entity always present in the designs of all who lived here.

“I will come," Sayid said firmly.

“I am so happy, Sayid," he said with a boyish smile, then turned to lift the tent flap and slip from the tent, holding the flap aside as Sayid stepped out. Sayid heard familiar voices at the other end of camp, and glanced at the unusually empty camp before turning to watch as Jacob slowly walked up the path into the jungle, visible for several moments, his back and shock of golden hair disappearing beyond the first curve in the jungle trail.

[ **CHAPTER FOUR: Heading North** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57379987#workskin)

Sayid continued, greeting others as he passed, noticing which people seemed to be hiding something, or bored, or plotting something, or bored. Then there were the ones who were always cheerful, giving and kind, rarely caught up in self-centered drama. Sayid of course preferred their company, though he had little in common with them. He was too disciplined to fully relax into their good-natured fun. They seemed to know that he liked their interest in him, and sometimes teased him lightly until they got a smile.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	4. Heading north

For a moment Sayid considered following the man... if he was a man. He did not wish to wait when there was something to be done, something to be learned, intelligence to be gathered. He had become so used to acting alone, on his own behalf, that fully cooperating with another felt good. He was cautious about indulging his feelings in this way, but he had decided to trust Jacob, and wanted to earn Jacob's trust as well.

Sayid walked across to the thriving camp nestled under the jungle canopy where it met the beach. Suddenly it was full of life again, people stepping out of their tents, walking up or down the beach, greeting each other.

“Good morning,” Sayid greeted Sawyer, who appeared to be cleaning out his tent.

“Well, good morning yourself,” Sawyer smiled. “Beautiful day... not a cloud...” he added, gesturing towards the horizon. He noticed how Sayid's dark eyes seemed more relaxed somehow, smiling. They both laughed. They knew very well that rain was always five minutes away in this place.

Sayid continued, greeting others as he passed, noticing which people seemed to be hiding something, or bored, or plotting something, or bored. Then there were the ones who were always cheerful, giving and kind, rarely caught up in self-centered drama. Sayid of course preferred their company, though he had little in common with them. He was too disciplined to fully relax into their good-natured fun. They seemed to know that he liked their interest in him, and sometimes teased him lightly until they got a smile.

He came to Jack's tent and found him returning from someplace, carrying his medical kit.

“Good morning, Jack,” he began.

“Yes, good morning, Sayid,” Jack stopped, placing the kit in front of his door, always happy to see his friend. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“As a matter of fact, there is. I am leaving camp for a few days. I will leave later today. I am feeling confined in camp. I need to explore the island, and spend some time alone.”

Jack nodded, clearly unconcerned. Sayid was his own man. He was conscientious about letting Jack know when he would be gone for longer than a few hours.

“Any particular part of the island?” Jack asked.

“Just heading North for now.”

“Okay, well don't get yourself hurt or in trouble, Sayid, if we aren't going to know where to look for you if you go missing.”

“I will be careful,” Sayid countered. “I am always careful.”

Jack nodded. “We always feel better with you nearby.”

“Thank you, Jack.” Sayid said warmly. “But I need a break from guard duty. Do not worry if I am gone for several days.”

“Done.” Jack said with a smile.

[CHAPTER FIVE: You must love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380023)

Sayid's voice was quiet as he carefully ventured the question that seemed hardest to put into words. “What are you?”

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	5. You must love

Sayid surveyed his tent for several moments, then realized he was looking at it through Jacob's eyes, discovering what Jacob had perhaps learned about him from the contents of his tent.

Spartan and drab, very clean, with a place for everything. He laughed. _Well, he already knows I am a soldier.._. Sayid smiled, noticing that he still used the present tense. Then he bent a little and looked for his “little bundle,” as he called it, just visible under the small table next to his bunk. 

He sat on the bunk and lifted the little packet from its tiny shelf, loosening the cloth covering, letting the fragile pieces fall onto the bed, then turning them over and arranging them carefully.

The pictures of Nadia were faded and deeply yellowed now with age. He knew the constant moisture here would eventually claim all of his little treasures. He enjoyed these little reminders of her the more while he still had them.

He rarely opened the note, but he let it fall open on the bed. It had once been folded twice, the blue ink now smeared and in some places faded away. “Come at eight, don't be late” the note said in Elsa's handwriting. Again, every time he looked at it, he questioned why he still kept this note, why he looked at it at all when a veil of darkness sometimes opened in him, revealing an irreconcilable place of both self-hatred and self-pity, anguish and regret... still hot, still raw, unprocessed. _I murdered her..._ he thought in spite of his self-control. _Like so many other people_...

"No..." he said, and the feelings stopped. He breathed deeply, carefully placing the note with Nadia's pictures.

Enough of this... he thought, though he still picked up the little silver colored hair clip, some of her long blonde hair still caught in it, carefully preserved just as he had found it in Shannon's little cup beside the bed, right after he lost her, how long ago? Her death had been hard, but remembering it was much easier than the realization that for a long time now he could not bring her scent to memory, and her face, her smile... were gone. Only his smile, the smile in his heart, remained.

 _I can love..._ he thought. _I love..._

He very carefully wrapped these things in the stained and torn muslin and chambray, placing the special packet back in its cubby hole. He wrapped and packed his personal items, keeping it all dry and arranged to remain silent in his pack, then rolled his extra clothes in his bed roll, strapping it to the stained and worn pack. He tied his full water bottles to the sides and stood up, placing the pack on the bed.

He had checked the reserve ammo in the bottom of the pack, and now checked the state of his weapon, dry and clean, safety on. He pulled back the slide, a round in the chamber, then popping out the full magazine for inspection, he pushed it back with the always reassuring _click_. Satisfied, he replaced it at his back and stood, looking around at his quarters. He let the rolled walls of the tent down in front of the mesh windows, and the tent was strangely silent, dark and close. He remembered standing here with Jacob, was it really today?

For a second he questioned his decision. _I don't know this man,_ he thought. _That is why..._ he thought. I want to know him, and what he knows. I trust him. _The Island..._

Lifting the pack he stepped out, carefully tying his tent closed before he set out at last up the familiar trail, away from the beach. He had fully explored along the beaches above camp, beaches which wrapped around to the North, skirting two high ridges before the beach of the statue. This time Sayid decided to take a direct, mountainous route, exploring further along than he had proceeded on several occasions of scouting the route. He felt sure it would lead to the beach Jacob had spoke of.

Sayid breathed deeply as the sounds of the camp receded. It had been too long. He enjoyed his role as protector of the camp, but needed time to relax his constant focus, to go somewhere. To sharpen his survival skills, to fight off the softness that might otherwise set in with inactivity and age.

Soon he took the left-hand cut to proceed north, which would keep the western sky above the hidden beaches that formed the long island shoreline to his left. A sweet breeze moved the humid air between the thick tangles of Mangrove trees, so that the morning felt especially cool and fresh.

Sayid relaxed into a steady pace, remembering a fighting song he once sang with his fellow soldiers. He hummed a little, and felt his spirits lifting. The golden light through the thick canopy danced on him and in the magical little grottos of early morning coolness he walked through between every tree.

He was still a long ways off from his destination, and would happily remain far from the part of the island reserved by The Others, so he indulged himself in letting his vigilance relax, humming again. There would be more vigilance later. That is as he desired.

When the afternoon came he was toiling over the long arm of the second ridge which opened far below onto the long, unbroken beach that would serve as his path for the remainder of his journey.

He stopped at the little stream, which cut his path down to the beach. The massive island mountains were shaped by constant water of rains pouring over and through the black, igneous rock formed from lava, pushed up by the underwater volcanoes that built the island. Paths over these mountains were almost always along a sharp ridge, or down a narrow stream bed. All else was sharply cutaway in steep drops of treacherous scree held in place by the steep mountain specialists, the myriad clinging plants that covered the almost vertical mountainsides.

Sayid was dripping sweat as he knelt at the little stream that marked the divide between mountain shoulders, cupping the water to wash away the sweat in his hair and face, his neck and down his arms. He noticed when the birds became quiet, and felt someone watching him. He steadied his nerves, remaining relaxed. When he turned to look up through his dripping hair, there was a man sitting on the other side of the stream, a little above him.

Sayid stood slowly, immediately noticing the man's empty hands, his bare feet, his torn clothes and spiky, dark hair. He was of medium build, the larger man. His physical beauty was tempered by a posture of quiet brooding. His body was tightly held, yet supremely relaxed in posture, a man confident of success, always prepared for immediate action. His demeanor was serious, yet he seemed to be enjoying every moment equally, doing only what he chose. _Doing what he loves best_ , Sayid thought.

_What did he love? What was he doing?_

_Hunting_ , his instincts told him. They also told him that drawing his weapon would not control the man, and would require giving up the element of surprise required to choose escape instead. Sayid had already noticed the best two avenues of escape when he stopped at the stream, and now selected flight as his best option if required. He willed himself to remain relaxed, ready for instant retreat.

“Do not leave just yet,” said the man. “Though I know you are going somewhere important.”

 _He will only pursue me if I run_ , thought Sayid.

Sayid did not speak. He certainly preferred to interact with the man rather than run away from him, and preferred listening over speaking to him.

“Please sit with me for a moment,” the man gestured to a nearby place to sit beside the water. Sayid hesitated, then sat, partially facing the man and partially facing his chosen avenue of escape. The man did not begin right away, watching Sayid, until he was ready to begin.

“My brother has chosen you, Sayid, and that is of concern to me. You are still not ready. I have tested your heart and found you wanting in one way.” The man looked out over the distant sea for some time, clearly enjoying the morning air and sun before he began again, turning to gaze at Sayid. “You are capable of very deep loyalty, Sayid, but you feel that love is a weakness. I have found the child's wound in you, Sayid. And I have measured the trail of blood you have discarded as a man. You have a darkness. The island will not accept you with that dark place inside of you."

 _Can he mean...?_ Sayid was deeply alarmed. For a moment, he saw most clearly how completely defended he was from that part of himself, the child that he was. He recognized immediately how fully he was rigid and lost to this struggle. _I am not that child,_ he said to himself, as he saw clearly how he had mapped the entire course of his life as a reaction to what happened to him, that child.

 _To me..._ Sayid permitted this thought, then watched as he pushed the thought and the feelings down, again. He now looked at the man with new eyes. _He found all of this in me, showed it to me._

The man was smiling, waiting again, as though he knew of his inner struggle.

“I have decided to give you a chance to choose a different life for yourself, Sayid. I do this because there are two forces here, and I am but one. Because Jacob has decided to offer this to you, I can also choose to offer. I have so chosen.”

"Listen, Sayid. Because you will find that this is very important. Jacob is offering acceptance to you, Sayid, if you find your way to him."

Sayid felt a surge of understanding. Jacob was to offer him something precious. He was going to Jacob to see if he might choose it. _Choose what?_

"There are two keepers of the island..." the man's voice trailed away, silent for a time. He looked again at Sayid, seeming to guage his attention, his eyes his own, with no communication of closeness or connection. His eyes focused, and he continued. "Jacob alone can find and preserve love and loyalty here, on behalf of the island. He requires honesty and will have tested you already in you ability to be honest about something you keep hidden." Sayid heard a tenderness in the man's voice as he spoke of his brother.

 _He is not human either_ , thought Sayid. _And yet they are brothers._

“I... am the defender, the one who closes doors, forces loyalties. I defend this island," his voice was low and sharp. "I test, and I must reject that which is not acceptable.” Sayid could hear in his voice a little impatience beginning, as though he was already tiring of conversation.

“Living on the island without being tested is the luxury of guests. But those who are chosen must be tested....” his voice trailing off a little as he looked over the distant water, far below. His face seemed drawn as he seemed to struggle inside.

"This is what I am, Sayid. My brother and I have borne these two forces in opposition for so long that our natures have become about this. But now, at last, the duality will be broken, and I will become free. I will break you Sayid. You will be broken. Understand, Sayid. If you choose Jacob, I will test you. But if you choose, and if you pass the test, you will be accepted." 

_"Sayid Jarrah, I will accept you if my brother accepts you, if you find your way to him,"_ he pronounced. _"If you pass the test."_ He turned his head a little then, signaling the last of explanations.

“I will say one thing more, then you may ask me a question.” The man smiled a private smile, then began as though he had as yet said nothing.

 _So strange_... thought Sayid.

“You have met my brother before, though the details are of no consequence. He has grown fond of you. But he has waited, afraid you would be destroyed if he sought you out too soon.”

“Sayid, beautiful, strong, loyal Sayid, Jacob has been watching you for a long time, taking you under his care. He is vigilant for your safety. You need fear nothing, Sayid, except my test. You are so finely made, so strong. You are self-reliant, and will love, if only to a point. Give yourself, Sayid. You must love.” 

_He wants to say more_ , _about himself._ Sayid thought, feeling a profound loneliness in the man, who must endure it without release.

“I will let you choose my brother first,” the man added. His voice was soft, almost sad. "Your choice will be far more difficult with me."

Then the man arose and stood over him. Sayid uncoiled his body and stood in one controlled motion.

“Give yourself to my brother,” he said. "I have watched you, and I will watch you, and I will know... when my time has come. Now, you may ask me a question.”

Sayid's voice was quiet as he carefully ventured the question that seemed hardest to put into words. “What are you?”

Sayid gasped, pushing back a little. He had felt a strange, inner touch somehow, pressing into him, piercing his inner world. It set in motion a huge ripple of distress that slowly filled him with a cold fear and pain which he struggled in vain to control. When his mind started again, certain thoughts became clear: _I was the giver of pain_... _the taker of life, of souls_.

Sayid realized his eyes were closed and opened them. The brother was gone.

[ **CHAPTER SIX: Magic of The Island** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380056/)

_Jacob_.... he thought of him, imagining him waiting for him. He sincerely wanted to see the man again, to be taken into his confidence, to learn from and be taught by him. He felt an attraction to the man's calm, and his air of wisdom, of knowledge. Sayid craved knowledge, to somehow find his part in the shifting patterns of change unique to the Island, a mystery. He had waited so long, living with an enduring sense of lack and frustration. _Now is my time._

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	6. Magic of the island

Sayid finally made his way through the last of the lowland jungle and out onto the painfully sunny beach, stopping again at the little stream before it met the sea, filling his water bottles, removing his shirt and soaking it in the sweet water, using it to again rinse the salt out of his eyes, rubbing it across his upper body as he moved to sit in the nearby shade, opening his bed and sitting with his back to a large tree that had somehow survived the salty spray near the water, spreading it's long hanging feelers and serpentine roots around him like a sheltering hug, coaxing him into drowsiness, which he indulged.

The sun was low in the sky when he woke up, listening with eyes still closed, immediately reassured by the sounds of the birds and the hard shape of his weapon ready at his back. Finally he sat up and ate without leaving his little camp.

Though he rarely performed _salat_ , he did so now, though he could only guess the direction to Mecca, and must put his forehead upon the sand. _I pray to remember_ , he thought, thinking of his life in Iraq and so many prayers. He remembered how, in the middle of Tikrit, the haunting _azans_ were so many and so close that he was overcome with the love of God and the need to worship.

After prayer he ate a little more and walked slowly on the beach as the sun sank into the sea, stretching his body, returning to his bed roll, preparing for relaxation and sleep.

Early morning brought the strongest breeze from off the ocean, pushing over the higher breaking waves with a little booming sound that Sayid chose not to sleep through. He relished an early start, and appreciated how quick and easy it was to eat some provisions and refill his water bottles, then roll up his bed and start along the beach, traveling light.

The Long Beach, as they called it, was almost unbroken except for an occasional narrowed beach around rocky mountain outcropping which could be followed with little trouble. Sayid enjoyed these changes in pace, as well as the slight struggle to make good progress walking on very wet sand. The exercise felt good, and he drank often of the fresh water plentiful here, where so many little streams reached the sea.

His long curls sailed inland over and over as he walked, and he enjoyed the cool feeling on his scalp and neck where it was usually sweaty and hot. Every so often he looked behind him where his tracks in the sand formed dark, kidney shaped pools surrounded by gleaming white. _I am going somewhere..._ he repeated, though he didn't really know yet what that meant.

The sun was well past its zenith when he came to the last of the beach, where a long, steep arm from the mountains plunged into the sea. He had debated whether to climb or swim, and was still unsure. Climbing in the heat of the day would not be too bad next to the ocean, where it was breezy. But it was a treacherous path of loose rock that could cause injury or death should he have a misstep, and not catch himself.

The sea meant getting his possessions wet, which concerned him most about the compass, his weapon and his food. The handgun would still function, but would need to be cleaned of the salt water as soon as possible. He could easily fashion a sort of hat for his food and the compass. That left the brine on his skin, which would be uncomfortable.

Sayid chose the sea. He would bathe and do a quick and dirty rinse of the gun and other gear at the next little stream on the other side. He would reach the beach Jacob instructed him to seek in time to dry his rinsed out clothes and bedclothes before sunset, though things never really dried completely in the island humidity.

He placed the compass and food in the four-square hat he fashioned from the large square of old fabric he carried, doubling it twice around the compass before tying it securely through his hair for insurance. He removed his clothes, wrapping his gun up and placed these and his makeshift sandals in the pack with the handgun at the top, then tightened the straps and looked around once more before walking into the sea, swimming out and around, keeping his distance from the rocks and the rough and swirling water crashing upon them.

He felt the heavy water pushing him, free and intimate on his naked skin, and relaxed into the sensual motions of swimming, pushing back against the constantly moving water.

When he emerged from the sea and walked up the beach he felt the special glow from swimming, from the delicious feeling of having been naked in the surging water, then emerging in the strong sun. The wind was quieter here, a lazy afternoon breeze on the protected little beach.

He walked to the next stream and set himself to the task of getting rid of the stinging, slick salt water. He carefully checked the compass, making sure it was completely dry. He gave the gun a quick rinse in the fresh water, wiping it clean, then rinsed his clothes and bedding. Using his cup for a makeshift shower, he poured the cool fragrant water thorough his hair and down his body over and over.

 _Oh_.... he thought. “Oh...” he said quietly. The sensuous glow seemed to undo his body, loosening the places where it was all tethered together, culminating in a profound release of the tensions of years of constant discipline and harsh living conditions, his entire body letting go into the surge of relaxation, moving heavy and insistent through him like the tug of the waves.

He felt drugged, no... released, somehow reborn... reconnected to the source, his source.

“Allahu Akbar...” he said aloud, his voice a familiar sound that he somehow heard anew. Closing his eyes, he worshiped God, silently, finding him always in his heart. _My God is great. He is my provider. I will thank Him again and again for his mercy and provision_.

It felt good, grounding in a perfect way, to sit back and eat a little, sitting naked on the peaceful beach, looking out at the clouds fluffy and perfectly aligned on the horizon, the sky a perfect blue with just the hint of white from the moisture in the air. He drank a little, then simply sat, contented. 

He closed his eyes and felt the cool breeze moving over his skin. His thoughts wandered, memories, questions, how his priorities now were so different from before his life here. He seemed at the perfect distance for making sense of the arc of his life, and for consolidating his understanding, his acceptance for what had gone before. He finally felt that he could move on from these things.

The time is come, he thought, breathing deeply, his emotions letting down as his body and muscles had, finding their place, settling back into him as what was good... nurturing. He felt nurtured by God, by life, by his mental and emotional state.

 _Jacob_.... he thought of him, imagining him waiting for him. He sincerely wanted to see the man again, to be taken into his confidence, to learn from and be taught by him. He felt an attraction to the man's calm, and his air of wisdom, of knowledge. Sayid craved knowledge, to somehow find his part in the shifting patterns of change unique to the Island, a mystery. He had waited so long, living with an enduring sense of lack and frustration. _Now is my time._

Jacob had reawakened his desire for knowledge, suddenly real and within his reach. He was amazed at the intensity of his desire as it emerged from him full formed and ready, ready for such a long time, waiting. This was his task in life, his purpose.

 _Jacob_.... he thought. He pictured the man over the next ridge and felt he was now especially ready to meet him again, still feeling a connection to the man who rekindled his old feelings of hope for a fulfilled life. 

And what of the brother? Jacob's brother had somehow taken his place as one of an almost magical duality. They both seemed to possess a magic, the magic of the Island. This is what he craved, contact with the source of the forces present in his life. Somehow he felt it, that the Island had called to him, and he had answered.

 _Now_... he said inside. _This_... he felt sure of his choices.

Sayid dressed with casual efficiency. Soon he was rounding the turn in the beach and climbing over the little hill which became the sentinel's platform above the waves and the sheltered little crescent beach beyond. Again he marveled at the stone figure, the size, the mystery of how and what it was made, and what force had scattered it around the base of the outcropping, where the pieces were alternately buried and then unburied by the constant motion of the sand and water.

When he reached this beach, the beach they called Sentinel Beach, the late afternoon was a honey glow on all that surrounded him. He stopped and again polished the little compass with his kerchief, holding it steady and watching the spinning pointer rocking back and forth, around and again, back and forth, finally beginning to settle and coming to a rest.

To his surprise, the compass pointed almost due south, to the foot of the huge statue behind him. He turned and walked toward it, watching the compass, which pointed at the base of the statue. Sayid thought he had explored completely around the huge statue long ago. He did not remember a path, or anything resembling a camp or structure on the slender ocean side below the large stony base.

When he reached the water's edge of the vertical base, he saw a series of white stones that led him along the narrow shelf around the base, surprising him with a jagged outcropping which seemed like a rough extension of the artificial wall, formed by stone. The little rocks were ascending with this path rising, guiding him around and behind the statue, then climbing back and forth on a steep rocky slope, higher and farther from the sea below. Looking close he could see the little worn spots surrounded by dislodged pebbles and sand which marked the little pathway used by the one who had left the stones.

He climbed easily, somehow rising, suddenly so deeply exhilarated, feeling that his moment had arrived, _my moment is come... I am alive for this... Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!_ He wanted to sing, to call the beginning of the divine _azan_ , calling all the world to _salat_ , to prayer, the duty of worship, better than sleep... better than sleep... the source of all success.

The stones stopped at a hidden entrance to a little cave which appeared above the path, and which he now entered, bending slightly. He stood up, peering into a much larger space than he anticipated, with little holes like natural windows along the wall to his left, and a darker area beyond. Everywhere were the possessions and evidence of living, of habitation. He could smell fish, spices, the smoke of a fire, the smell of straw and herbs. Sayid set his pack down, listening.

“Jacob...? He asked, his voice louder and closer in the quiet little cavern, his Iraqi accent thick in his happiness, his sudden exhilaration.

“I am here...” a familiar voice behind him was soft, breathy... Sayid turned to find Jacob slipping through the entrance, then holding Sayid's gaze as he straightened and stepped down into the muffled intimacy of the little cave.

“I watched you coming," Jacob said, clearly excited, his breathing strong from a downward climb. "You are most welcome, Sayid.” He clasped Sayid to him and hugged him warmly, receiving Sayid's embrace, rubbing his back gently, and whispering again at his ear. “You are most welcome, dear Sayid...”

[ **CHAPTER SEVEN: I will** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380074/)

“Will you love me, Sayid?” Jacob whispered, again bringing his lips to his, pressing into their ample softness, parting as their tongues touched and a connection of rippling fire claimed Sayid from within, his tongue and his body arching as the subtle beginning of the final contortions of loving, of spines arching and pleasure building with each moment of fire, and finding the source of that fire, the promise of ultimate union and pleasure.


	7. I will

The two men stepped back from an embrace and warm greeting. Sayid felt a magic between them, and happiness. And then Jacob took one of Sayid's hands, something no man had done with him since he was a child. _Since_.... Sayid slipped past the bad memory and found Jacob's eyes again. _His smiling eyes_ , Sayid thought, watching those so blue eyes now close, looking at Jacob's lips as he brought them to his own, placing them on his so slightly, so softly, a promise and a question...

Jacob still held Sayid's hand as he moved back just a little, communicating with him, eye to eye.

And Sayid felt his own answer there, in his eyes a longing for this man who seemed so very young and so very old at the same time. Sayid felt no doubt or hesitation. He said “yes” with his heart, with his body and his eyes, fire in him, fire in them. _I am yours, I will be yours._

“Will you love me, Sayid?” Jacob whispered, again bringing his lips to his, pressing into their ample softness, parting as their tongues touched and a connection of rippling fire claimed Sayid from within, his tongue and his body arching as the subtle beginning of the final contortions of loving, of spines arching and pleasure building with each moment of fire, and finding the source of that fire, the promise of ultimate union and pleasure.

They made the subtle sounds of love as they slowly and deeply kissed, finding every part of each other's mouths, tasting, wanting another, seeking entry. Their deepening breaths were amplified by the cave, and cascaded for a long moment surging with the muffled sounds of distant waves falling onto the shore below, desire drenching desire, their desire rushing through and past them, capped by these sighs and moans of desire as they pressed into each other, body moving against body, arms clasped around as they gasped and pushed harder, then rubbing one against the other, the pleasure a physical fullness and then imminent release, and the special joy of men, of boys sharing their bodies and each other's pleasure.

Jacob suddenly stepped back and grasped Sayid's penis through his loose pants, holding it tightly, unmoving, eye to eye, both of them suddenly very still as Jacob stopped his own ascent. He took his hand away so very slowly, so that Sayid ached for its return before it was gone from him. Sayid waited. He stood waiting as he felt himself conquered, somehow vanquished by love, by this man who had sought him out, and now found his heart.

Jacob removed his own shirt, then helped Sayid pull his tee over his head, his heavy curls falling, more and more of the black curls dancing around his face as they fell, a sensuous curtain of blackest black framing his golden brown face and deepest brown eyes, glistening, his wet lips parted.

 _I am here..._ Sayid said with his eyes. _I am here..._ said his eyes, and Jacob answered.

“Sayid...” Jacob said, still holding Sayid's hand as he kissed him lightly, then slowly turned him, eye to eye until Jacob turned him away, leading him to the back of the cave where a little bed awaited them, folding Sayid down onto his back on the bed, clasping both of Sayid's hands above his shoulders as he lowered himself onto the tautly drawn man, exotically beautiful and deep golden brown beneath him, his body offered to him in the calm darkness.

Again they pressed against each other, the private world of two, knowing each other skin to skin and through their remaining clothes, through their muscles and breath. Jacob's weight upon Sayid so good, perfect. _This is who I am_ , Sayid thought, understanding the changes, feeling the wonder as he relished this release from always questioning, always assessing danger. He felt himself healing in some way, newly free, his true essence released and nurtured, now able to be known by another, and so by himself.

Jacob stopped moving, still clasping Sayid's hands above his new lover's shoulders. Their excited breathing seemed to echo slightly like many whispers, urging them to start again, to find each other again. Jacob was covering him without moving, his face in Sayid's hair, breathing in the rich scent there of coconut and citrus. He turned his head, finding Sayid's armpit, and breathed his scent in, a musky and salty concoction that he felt must surely include the chemical signal of sexual desire... and of love.

Finally Jacob unclasped Sayid's hands, and stood to untie and step out of his pants. Sayid watched him, then sighed with excitement to see his lover revealed, then again as Jacob knelt to lay on him between his legs.

“I want you...” Jacob whispered to Sayid, kissing Sayid's face and shoulders, tracing his tongue across Sayid's moist and so sensitive skin, offered for and worshiped by a lover who kissed and licked his chest, wiggling his tongue in the ample hair there, exploring, wetting Sayid's nipples, then breathing on them, kissing them.

“Take me... take me......” Sayid heard himself answer, his voice pushing through the pleasure.

And then Jacob had slipped down just a little, was pulling so slightly against Sayid with his hips, then harder, and harder still, a passionate little release into the motions of fucking. Pressing his hips again and again upon the soft fabric of Sayid's pants, though he denied any contact with the place of Sayid's hardness, giving only the little movement, the slight lifting of Sayid's genitals each time Jacob bumped against his pelvis with his own, so that Jacob began to quiver from need and heat, bringing moan and complaint from the ecstatic Sayid, who reached for Jacob, stroking his smooth belly and his chest, trying to reach Jacob's arms, to pull him down to him, into him... _will he seek me in that way...?_

“Come down to me.... come to me,” Sayid asked, but Jacob would not bend, would not let Sayid grasp his arms or sides though he tried again, then again, a denial that Sayid suddenly found maddening in his state of desire.

 _The entire world is gone away... gone... there is only this... I will not wait, of this I am certain._ Sayid could hear his thoughts at last made silent as his mind emptied of years of being someone else... someone who did not trust his own desires.

He was left there, waiting. He heard in his breath the barely audible cries of frustration that seemed to finally bring Jacob to him, leaning into him, then grasping Sayid and turning him over, pulling his pants off, covering Sayid with his body, his hands in Sayid's hair as he tugged it slightly, claiming him. And Sayid was floating, no longer scourged by denial, only his undoing, loosened by this certainty that his desire was to be answered, there was no more to do in this life or the next but to be this, to burn and to move as though he was made of only pleasure, and becoming more, feel it carrying him into himself.

Jacob knelt over Sayid, and Sayid heard rustling and the sound of a jar lid screwing off, releasing a fragrance of exquisite, fresh coconut oil. Jacob with one arm clasped under Sayid's belly as he moistened himself, then deftly entered him, so slowly, pushing, stop... pushing... deeper, then he did not pull but stayed there as he crossed both arms under and around Sayid's lower abdomen, slipping deeper, then clasping so hard, pulling Sayid onto him so hard that Sayid felt he might cry out.

"Now..." Jacob whispered. "Yes," answered Sayid. _He holds all of me somehow_... Sayid thought, these very few words slipping into his mind.

Jacob began to fuck Sayid with those same little jerking movements deep inside, squirming as though to get deeper. When he changed to the larger movements of love, they moved together in a shared rhythm that matched the certainty of Sayid's release, with no need to slow or hold back, no need to increase or hurry their efforts as the synergy of joining carried them on.

Jacob had found and grasped Sayid firmly, adding to Sayid's pleasure as they forgot time, forgot place, and knew only the heat and passion of a newborn love. Sayid's mind was perfectly still then as he felt himself building to the promise of heat cresting in him at last, beginning its inevitable cascade into release, so slowly.... so slowly, then......! he went over with the waves of pleasure, arching into the last moments before the release and pleasure became everything at last and he was arching with his head back, his heightened senses strangely deluged with the scents and broken silence of the cave.

Jacob was enthralled as Sayid remained silent though the pulling and falling spasms of pleasure, then Jacob's grasp on him much lighter, steady, waiting until the man's sighs finally broke through his passion, and Jacob answered with his own long sigh, so quietly voicing the jerking cadence of strident breathing, poetic sighs, groans made of motion, moving so slightly in Sayid as he took his release, falling from passion at last.

They came to rest, so completely spent, their bodies undone, curled together face down on the bed. They listened to their breathing, tasting each other on their tongues, feeling their golden warmth mingled with their sweat and the sticky liquids of sex as the golden light of the setting sun painted their passion on the walls of the cave. And they felt everything so still as their minds and their bodies were profoundly at peace, at rest, knowing nothing about the world except _now_ , and nothing more except that it all would be born from this exacting newness.

“Be mine, Sayid,” Jacob finally said.

“I will,” Sayid answered quietly.

It was done.

[ **CHAPTER EIGHT: Not yet** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380119)

“How do you know me, Jacob...?” he began, his voice breaking with the quiet hoarseness of recent pleasure. He waited. “We seem to have already begun... the beginning of each other...” Sayid's voice had become soft as he touched Jacob's face with wonder. _We are already so close_...

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	8. Not yet

Tiny kisses. Sayid barely moved, completely relaxed. Jacob moved just a little to kiss Sayid's shoulder, his face, his ear, his hair, the back of his neck. He lifted Sayid's curls and blew softly there, knowing that this would feel so delicious.

The night was very quiet, the tide going out, only a distant sound of gentle water lapping at the shore, then the sound of a night heron barking as it flew along the dark water. He pictured the water, very dark as the waning moon was sinking into the sea, something Sayid was very familiar with, that he had watched over and over, so that he could see it now, in his mind's eye.

Sayid gently pushed up, his arm still under Jacob's neck, pulling Jacob against himself with firm little tugs.

“How do you know me, Jacob...?” he began, his voice breaking with the quiet hoarseness of recent pleasure. He waited. “We seem to have already begun... the beginning of each other...” Sayid's voice had become soft as he touched Jacob's face with wonder. _We are already so close_...

Jacob still did not answer, his eyes focused on the ceiling, then back to Sayid.

“I will tell you, Sayid," he seemed to be far away for a moment, remembering.

"Not yet...” he finally said, and they were quiet again, curling together at last in the moist breath sounds of sleep.

**[CHAPTER NINE: The flaw](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380131) **

Jacob had finished eating, rinsing his hands with a little of the water. He reached tentatively towards Sayid's hand, smiling with a gentle shyness as Sayid squeezed his hand back. They looked across the sea and the sky, sitting for a time, as men often do, without talking or looking at each other, an exquisite form of total intimacy that is almost always unnoticed or misunderstood by women.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	9. The flaw

Sayid slipped out of the moist knot of new lovers recently joined and ducked outside. The sun was still a promise behind the mountains in the eastern sky, and he savored the cool air as he walked down the steep path. How fine it was to stand and urinate in the sea, always a satisfying experience in the morning, when the stream plunged into the surf with a loud, substantial plunking sound. The new day was mild and the breeze from off the sea was as gentle as the sea was calm, magnifying his efforts.

Jacob slipped up next to him and added his contribution. He tied the top of his pants and put his hand on Sayid's shoulder, turning to him. “Good morning, Sayid,” he said warmly.

“Good morning, Jacob,” Sayid slid his hand around Jacob's waist, pulling him to him, and they shared a tender kiss, finishing and starting again, then again.

**Sayid noticed a fine cord with a small leather bag around Jacob's neck, and wondered how he had missed it in their lovemaking.**

Jacob was holding a little net bag full of several mangoes atop leaf wrappers of dried fish, and an old glass bottle filled with water, also in its own little net bag. He took a mango, offering it to Sayid. As he turned, Sayid noticed a roughly woven blanket rolled and tied to the strap, and smiled, picturing a morning picnic. They walked along the wall of the sentinel and onto the beach, Jacob leading the way up and away from the water where some flotsam on the dry sand had been formed into two seats, one beside the other, facing the sea. They were higher on the beach, and Sayid had not noticed them when he arrived, obviously placed with a clear view of the expanse of water to the horizon.

They settled in beside each other and began their breakfast, leaning over occasionally to take bites of Mango that dripped into the sand. Sayid enjoyed the breeze pushing at his curls while he ate. He wondered about the second seat, and pictured the other brother sitting there beside him.

“My brother visits me,” Jacob offered.

“Your brother has visited me as well,” Sayid offered, still looking out to sea. _We begin again_ , Sayid thought.

Jacob did not answer, and Sayid said nothing. 

_Content to be content_ , Sayid thought as the sky grew lighter, a grand event. The familiar ocean smells of washed up seaweed and uncovered tide pools accompanied the very low water. Far out to sea, the cottony clouds seemed to float on an unseen surface, as they often did, their flat undersides finding the division between layers of air. He watched as they gradually caught the pink glow of the rising sun, which must climb above the mountains behind them to shine upon this side of the island.

Sayid had greatly enjoyed his half of the dried fish, drinking with pleasure from the fresh water. He was drifting in his mood, feeling the food in his belly, his mind settling. 

Jacob had finished eating, rinsing his hands with a little of the water. He reached tentatively towards Sayid's hand, smiling with a gentle shyness as Sayid squeezed his hand back. They looked across the sea and the sky, sitting for a time, as men often do, without talking or looking at each other, an exquisite form of total intimacy that is almost always unnoticed or misunderstood by women.

Jacob sat up a little, looking down at his hands, appearing thoughtful as he traced and rubbed them together. _I will accept his questions..._

"My brother appeared as a man, strange to you?”

“Yes,” Sayid answered. He described the man briefly, and Jacob seemed surprised.

“He is being honest with you,” Jacob said. “He need not be so with you.”

“What is this test?” Sayid asked.

“Not one test, this or that... He will test you until he is satisfied.”

“Satisfied, how...?”

“Until the island is satisfied.”

 _The island, the island_... Sayid thought. _If not for my feelings for Jacob, I might laugh at this Island, and walk away from this strange challenge. No one has ever managed to enslave me. I am so careful of that. Because then I would be at their mercy, and they could do to me what I have done, without mercy._

“What did my brother say to you?” Jacob asked. Sayid described the short conversation, and the warning about his inability to truly love, that he experienced it as weakness.

“He has found your flaw, Sayid. Your test is about love. The island will not accept you without a true choice to love.”

Sayid was confused by this, and said nothing.

Jacob's voice became soft and tender. “The test is about love... because I love you, Sayid,” he confessed, finding Sayid's eyes with his own, _with the smile that is always there_ , Sayid thought... _with the little sadness, always there_... 

“I have known you a lot longer than you have known me,” Jacob added, his voice somehow nearer, as for Sayid's ear alone. Sayid looked closely at Jacob, sensing that other being there, wondering again what he was.

“There is more to know about me,” Jacob answered this look, “but all of who I am is here, I do not hide, nor do I withdraw. Because I choose to be this way with you, my brother has chosen to be this way with you also.”

“Others have been with you, but not in this way? Not as lovers?” Sayid asked.

"I have chosen others, some for love and some for other reasons," he answered.

“Where are they now?” Sayid hungered for understanding.

“Some were found wanting. They did not pass the test. Others chose their world over mine, their lives over me. But I have chosen you very carefully, Sayid.” 

_How I love his smile, I am learning to love his smile_ , Sayid thought. The hunger to understand drove Sayid to more words, to somehow understand this man.

“How old are you, Jacob?”

“Ah, therein lies the difference, Sayid, what you sense in me. Because I serve the island, I am old. Very very old.”

Sayid watched Jacob's eyes and face change as he spoke. _He is scrupulously honest_.

“I have chosen you Sayid,” he said finally, “with my heart.”

 _No one has ever offered me this much_ , Sayid thought.

The two men were quiet then, Jacob smiling inside as Sayid looked out to sea. He could feel Sayid turning things around in his head.

“I have loved a man before,” Sayid said finally without shame. “It is the same as with a woman, and completely different... but I feel no concern about this difference. We have known one another physically and spiritually...” he stopped for a moment, began again. “I do wish to give you my heart... I do love you.” Sayid felt his heart melting as he said these words, and felt a radiating joy as Jacob's face showed his happiness at these words.

“Dear Sayid,” Jacob said, reaching to him and brushing his curls back from his face, so that Sayid looked down, almost shy from Jacob's loving touches.

“Do you know what will happen if you choose to be mine?” Jacob said gently.

“No,” Sayid confessed.

You have already chosen my world. But we are stopped here, at the beginning. Dear Sayid. You were changed by evil, Sayid."

Sayid felt a small, sharp intake of breath reach as far as his belly.

"A fire will arise in you, Sayid, burning what is impure in you, the barrier around your heart. The circumstances of your life here will become the fuel for this purifying fire. This is your test. If you choose to accept this change, my brother will know. Just as he will know if you hesitate, if you try to go back to who you were before, what made you feel strong. That will be his moment, and he will take you away from me... he will take you away from here.”

 _That is the sadness_ , Sayid thought. _He has lost someone before me._ The commitment to something so far-reaching and strange was sobering, and Sayid wondered why it must be so. _The island. Always this, there is no backing away, no where else to go, but here... That is why this place is an island._

"If I cannot show that I am yours, will you or your brother find me wanting in this way?”

Sayid found Jacob's eyes intently locked on his own.

"You must be remade by evil. You must pay the price. The walls and foundations of the evil in you will fall to your foundations. You must begin again. You have survived, Sayid. But you must choose something besides evil to survive evil."

"How will you know... that I have done this?"

“My brother will know. He is the judge. It is in him...” Jacob's voice slipped into one deep breath, almost a sigh. " _He will test you_."

“Then what is in you, Jacob? Why have you chosen me?”

“What is in me?” Jacob continued. “It is my nature to choose for the island. I have chosen this beginning so carefully, Sayid. I have chosen you and how to begin with you. Soon we will truly begin. But the island will only accept you if you also choose me.”

Sayid was confounded by this. Surely he had already chosen Jacob, though they had found each other so recently.

“There is more to you, Sayid, more to who you are to me. You are special to me. I have known for a long time that you are mine, because... when the Island showed you to me, I found you here, in my heart,” Jacob rested his hand lightly on his chest, looking at Sayid with a very slight shyness.

 _The man in the creature_... thought Sayid. When Jacob continued, his voice had changed again. Sayid noticed right away, and focused on this as well as his words.

“I have faith in you, Sayid. I have waited for you, waited until you finished all that you once were before you could come to the island. And because I have chosen you with my heart, your choice is... that you must also choose me with yours.”

 _I think I know him now. He is old_... Sayid thought. _This voice is the old one, the one who is always alone._ Sayid noticed his own loneliness, something he endured as a necessity. _He loves me..._ he thought. _He has chosen me. What does that mean?_ Sayid had felt how freely his feelings spilled into their moments together, a luxury he did without out of havit. He looked down, feeling Jacob's gaze and breath so near, then closed his eyes.

_My life can be remade. I know this, and choose it. I do not know all of what is in my heart, but it is so perfect to seek that now, to make all of my heart one, and to give it freely._

Sayid's face was still near as Jacob also closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze playful upon his face and arms, stirring in his spiky hair. He opened his eyes, immediately lost in the glistening deep brown of Sayid's unflinching gaze.

There was a long moment where it seemed that all preparations were in place for beginning something they could only do together. Sayid was enchanted by this feeling. _Had I let myself become so empty?_

A sudden rush of breeze sent a whispering flock of loose leaves up the beach, the last few leaves dancing with crisp, ticking sounds as they leapt over the others. Tiny sand pipers bobbed and darted amongst the sparkling surf as it tumbled in, then _sissed_ back out, the air slipping back into the moist sand with a sudden hush.

Still they were silent, and Jacob touched Sayid's hand. Sayid was surprised by his own intake of breath.

"You have chosen me, my love." Jacob's voice was soft with closeness. "You will choose again."

"My heart aches..." 

"As mine has ached for you," Jacob covered Sayid's hand with his own.

Sayid felt his being reordered in an invisible dance of parts. He joined Jacob in looking around at a world reordered upon itself. Neither man spoke for some time.

“These are our moments...” Jacob said quietly, “before the Island begins...” he trailed off. He smiled and then let his head fall back a little, breathing in the salty air. “The morning is fresh and my love is near,” Jacob said with satisfaction.

Jacob squeezed Sayid's hand with affection, smiling as he sat back again, as Sayid settled back, the two men savoring a delicious feeling of quiet closeness, letting the memory of the sweet tones of their conversation mingle with the sounds of the sea.

[ **CHAPTER TEN: The god is mine** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380149/)

Sayid made it clear he could dunk Jacob at will. But he did not throw Jacob into the water, but instead grasped Jacob's back against him, communicating his fullness and arousal to him, so that Jacob stopped at last and relaxed against Sayid with a sigh of pleasure, stepping and restepping to somehow keep his balance when suddenly undone again by arousal.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	10. The god is mine

Sayid stood and stretched, and Jacob admired him in the gentle light of morning, his skin a caramel brown that made everything else about Sayid twice as beautiful, from his cascade of black curls to his funny makeshift sandals.

Sayid's face was classically beautiful, with a graceful aquiline nose, and deep set, dark brown, always sensual eyes. Heavy lidded eyes, so that Sayid seemed always to be dropping his eyelids just a little... as though he was accepting pleasure in every moment.

When his brown eyes caught the light, Jacob was enthralled, speechless.

All of this was enough to make Sayid's face very pleasing to him. But Jacob was overcome by his dramatic brow, and the lines of his long, square face and sharp, prominent jaw line, strongly accentuated by his rough-trimmed beard. His lips were full, with the bottom lip a little fuller than the top. Soft lips...

Sayid's crowning glory was literal in the form of a mass of black curls, ringlets that coiled around each other in a huge tangle which was always moving, bouncing, sailing about, a dynamic symbol of Sayid's masculinity and strength.

Sayid finished stretching, and brushing the sand from his lower body. Jacob was all but overcome by the graceful beauty that took form as Sayid's tight, slim hipped body, large chest, and muscular arms and shoulders.

 _The god is mine_... thought Jacob. He had watched Sayid for many years, but still found his beauty as arresting as when he first saw him, a stranger placed in his path by the Island, then desired by him long ago. He remembered... he had stopped searching then. And he had waited, so long... _So long to worship you_...he thought. So long since the others that had failed the test and left the Island, who were long since passed on, with only his memories of them left.

Jacob stretched, then got up slowly, balancing as he sank into the cool sand. He reached for Sayid, then tousled Sayid's hair as he leapt past him towards the water, kicking up sprays of sand behind him with each quick step. Within moments Sayid had raced past him, and they ran up the beach, away from the sentinel, pushing to win a sudden foot race, happy to run, to exult in motion and play.

Sayid won by a sizable distance, and stood smiling as Jacob caught his breath, hands on his knees. They kicked water at each other, then Jacob raised the stakes, running at Sayid, wrestling him while standing in shallow water to see who would be vanquished and go into the surf.

Sayid made it clear he could dunk Jacob at will. But he did not throw Jacob into the water, but instead grasped Jacob's back against him, communicating his fullness and arousal to him, so that Jacob stopped at last and relaxed against Sayid with a sigh of pleasure, stepping and restepping to somehow keep his balance when suddenly undone again by arousal.

 _I will let him be dominant in some things,_ Jacob thought, then: _he already finds such tender play in himself for me._

Sayid clasped his hands together under Jacob's arms and lifted him with his back against Sayid, measuring his weight, claiming him, Jacob's bare feet relaxed and dangling just above the sand wet with foam. Jacob let go into Sayid, completely relaxed, clearly finding it pleasurable to be held so. Sayid lowered him back onto the wet sand, then bent over him slightly, pushing his fullness against him again, grasping his body onto him, satisfied by the long inhale and breathy moan, deep and fully voiced, langorous as the relaxed state of Jacob's body.

Sayid bent him further, his left hand on Jacob's neck, then sliding his right hand under Jacob's shirt, feeling under his belly, just touching the top of his tight erection, laughing like a plundering pirate in Jacob's ear.

He slid his hand under Jacob's pants, grasping him firmly, pulling slightly, enjoying the feel in his hand, voicing his satisfaction with a breathy “hmmmmm.” This is A LOT more fun than saving people from themselves, he thought as he grasped Jacob by his hair, so slowly pushing him to his knees. Jacob answered by letting himself be placed on his knees in the wet sand, his neck loose as his head fell forward, Sayid's hand still firm upon Jacob's head as he walked around him, standing in front of him. Sayid felt the thrill of a different kind of intimacy as he bent over Jacob like a man to a child, chiding him with his hand still on his hair, forehead to forehead. 

"Sometimes you must take my direction. Sometimes _you_ must obey _me_."

"Tell me," Jacob said, his voice gruff with arousal.

Sayid stood again, and Jacob sat back a little, his eyes half closed as he loved Sayid standing over him. “I think that you are the sentinel,” he laughed.

“I am the conqueror,” Sayid taunted, his soldier voice suddenly very serious, and with a thick accent.

Jacob was reaching then, grasping both of Sayid's heels as he brought his lips to Sayid's golden brown feet, kissing and licking the salt from them, then lingering with his lips on the tops of Sayid's feet. He worshiped each of Sayid's feet, kissing them with obvious emotion, putting his forehead on them, loving Sayid in this way, letting himself be conquered.

 _So long... to worship you...._ Jacob thought.

Sayid was still, he had slipped into a different state, a place inside where he was completely focused and given to the moment, thrilled equally by the act as by Jacob's response. _These are things that all lovers do_ , he thought, feeling that this outward, erotic dance of power was as essential to loving as the inner act of surrender.

Jacob sat up, pressing his face against Sayid's thigh to wipe the water from his face, clearly in a different emotional state, _a place inside_ , Sayid thought.

Suddenly there was a great deal of need between them. “I want you...” Sayid whispered at Jacob's ear, pulling him to his feet.

Jacob turned, beckoning Sayid up the thick sand towards the jungle, leading him along the dunes to the far end of the beach. His walk was lilting, a sort of dance, the slight samba of arousal communicated unconsciously in his hips as he walked with purpose, seeking a little path which led into the jungle. Soon they came to a flat spot which was made into a bed, soft with the little creepers gathered high under a sort of mattress made of freshly matted and interwoven leaves. 

Sayid could smell nearby the low fragrant bushes with white flowers whose scent reminded him of jasmine. When he looked up, the gentle morning sky was open in every direction.

“I sleep here sometimes,” Jacob said, brushing off the little bed with a makeshift broom. “I can enjoy the stars.” He unrolled the blanket he had brought and spread it over the bed.

 _Like lovers_.... Sayid thought as they came down to each other on the sweet smelling bed. _We are lovers_ , he said to himself, repeating it a few times as he cupped Jacob's head to him, finding his eyes, caressing his hair, smelling him, nuzzling him with his nose and lips.

Oh how he loved their kisses, slow and deep with longing. Finally they were gasping, flinging each other onto their backs, gazing at the sky.

Sayid could feel the slight change in Jacob, that he was preparing to speak.

“These are our moments...” Jacob said quietly, “before the island begins...” he trailed off.

Sayid felt a surge of feeling, of needing who they were now.

“Let us be lovers, then,” Sayid said. He heard the slight change in Jacob's breathing, and everything around them seemed to slip into a contained memory, replaced by this, by now. There was only Jacob, his funny smile, and the language of love, his breath.

Jacob rolled onto him, and Sayid was thrilled by his weight, his slight motions of pleasure. Sayid breathed a low sigh of sudden intensity. _His arousal arouses me. We became mad with need._ He remembered these things from so long ago that the fire between them seemed entirely new.

Jacob sat up between Sayid's legs, opening his pants, sitting back on his heels as he pulled them off, sliding his hands under Sayid's legs. He leaned down and immediately breathed hot and moist on Sayid as he gently pressed the place high up under his testicles with his fingers. He slowly slowly brought his tongue so softly onto a special place, pressing wet and warm on the sensitive spot where his foreskin began right under the glans, enjoying the sharp changes in Sayid's breathing. He kept his tongue's increasing pressure on this spot as he moved it up and down slightly, then slowly licking the length of Sayid's penis, licking around the sides as he moved up and down, not touching the glans, teasing him.

He pressed into the spot again with his fingers, and when he took the glans in his mouth, Sayid rocked into him, expelling breath sharply as he grasped Jacob's head, trying insistently to pull him down onto him. Jacob resisted, but Sayid prevailed with a groan of rich gratification as Jacob kept his mouth tight around him, pushing down as far as he could, then rocking up and back again, making the motions he knew Sayid needed.

Sucking and tightening his lips, he expertly pleasured in a way Sayid had never quite experienced. He let Sayid determine the pace, and soon Sayid was past the point of no return so that he cried out with pleasure, then the jungle suddenly quiet as Sayid's mind was also quiet, laying with Jacob curling upon his waist, Jacob feeling his muscles still rippling, his breath still deep and insistent from the overwhelming pleasure.

They lay together for some time. The sounds of the jungle had returned, and their breathing was relaxed, sharing occasional sighs of contentment as they dozed with the first rays of the warm sun peeking through the trees, listening to the sounds of the sweet breeze and the distant waves.

Jacob came up to Sayid, laying next to him, and Sayid put his arm under and around Jacob, stroking his hair, taking his hand to kiss it, then clasping it against himself.

“Will you be mine, Jacob?” Sayid asked quietly, his voice sleepy.

“I will,” Jacob answered.

“Good.” Sayid pronounced in a contented voice, adding, “You are good.”

“Yes I am,” Jacob answered very softly.

"Mmmmmm..." Sayid said as they drifted towards sleep.

[ CHAPTER ELEVEN: Claire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57503440/)

“And...” Jacob began, his voice eloquent with emotion, “...will you give to Sayid for me? Will you bring him special foods and snacks, offer to wash and mend his clothes, find things for him to read? Will you touch him sometimes, a pat on his back, a grasp of his hand... just briefly? He is never touched and we all need to touch and be touched.”

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	11. Claire

Claire was hot and sticky when she came down the trail to the beach. She had gone to bathe in the stream above the little pool, her stream. No one went above the pool, which was too inviting to pass by. She enjoyed laying in the little bend in the stream where it was just deep enough to cover her, waiting for her newly washed clothes to approximate something this side of sogginess, hanging in the sun. She rested her head on the tiny sandy beach there, looking up at the green and golden light filtering through the tree tops, listening to the gentle sounds of the trees as the cool water worked its magic. Afterwards, she had dozed on the sand, her feet still in the gentle little stream.

Claire could not know that in a few weeks, Sayid would be visited by a strange man named Jacob.

As Claire dressed, she cursed playfully. Island life was moist, and bathing was only a temporary relief from the effects of constant humidity. By the time she made her way back to camp, she was already hot and drenched with sticky moisture, something she never seemed to get used to, but somehow tolerated. She was moving in a gentle, careless way, her body still relaxed and not quite pulled back together for walking as she followed the so familiar trail, adjusting her clothes a bit in anticipation of entering camp.

Just before the camp came into view, Claire saw a man sitting on the large tree that had fallen recently there, sitting back on his heels with his arms relaxed between his legs. She was startled, but somehow not alarmed. She stopped, and looked at him, noticing his bare feet, his gentle smile, blond scruffy hair and primitive clothes. She guess him to be around forty years old, and someone who had lived on the island for some time.

“Hello, Claire,” Jacob said.

“Hello,” she answered. She stood on the trail, wondering why she immediately trusted the man, and wanted to talk to him.

“I am Jacob,” the man offered, then sat for a long moment, completely relaxed. He seemed to be listening. After some time, he focused on Claire again.

“I want to tell you something,” he said with emphasis, “...and ask a favor of you.”

“Okay...” she replied, obviously a little confused, but ready to hear what he had to say.

“My beloved lives here... here in your camp,” he began with a soft voice. “I have loved him for so many years now..." He stopped for a moment. "It is not quite time for us to meet.” Jacob tilted his head slightly, a very slow movement, as he closed his eyes briefly. It was obviously to Claire that he was experiencing longing as he spoke.

“Will you help me, Claire?” He stopped for a moment, letting her catch up after being so direct. “I want to give to my love. It is so hard to love someone and not be able to give to them, to only be able to protect and care for them from afar.”

Jacob looked at Claire with an emotional, penetrating gaze as he spoke these last words, while his head seemed to float to the side again, ever so slightly, as though he slipped back into a simple resignation to his longing. _His eyes_... she thought. She felt herself falling forward, drawn into his eyes, blue... so blue. But she also felt her bare feet almost rooted, unmoving on the path. _So strange_... she thought. Still, she felt no danger from him. She felt no need to move, or look around. She felt safe with him, and that this was enough, just now.

“Why would you choose me?” she asked. “I can't protect anyone, I mean, not really...”

“That is exactly why I have come to you, Claire.” he said. “The Island has.. I have chosen you to be his protector.”

“His...??” She repeated, looking at the man sideways. “Who?”

“It is Sayid,” Jacob answered.

“Sayid??” she said, deeply puzzled. _Sayid loves no one, and everyone_ , she thought. Claire had a very hard time imagining Sayid as a lover with a woman, let alone a man. True, he had loved Shannon, but that lasted a very short time and ended in tragedy. He had resumed a friendly distance from them when that happened. He seemed to have loved Shannon in spite of himself, and so had lost something of himself when she died. Claire imagined that he would never love again.

She breathed in sharply and was about to protest the absurdity of the man's revelation, but Jacob continued, and so she stopped, exhaling slowly, listening to him patiently.

“Sayid will not let anyone protect him,” Jacob continued. “He protects others... as he protects you,” he glanced away then, towards the beach and Sayid's tent. “If I tell you how to protect and give to my love, will you help me?” He smiled, and continued before she could respond, before she could decide.

“Sayid is going to play a role in the protection of this island, Claire, and protecting him will bring you good fortune as an inhabitant.”

Jacob was quiet at last, and waited for Claire to speak.

“How can I protect Sayid?” she asked. “How can I give to him, I mean...?”

“By watching out for him, by noticing if he is in danger, or lacking something in any way, and asking others to help him,” Jacob said, clearly feeling a great deal about his hope that she might do this on his behalf.

“I could do that,” Claire said, feeling this was a good idea, and something she might be good at.

“And...” Jacob began, his voice eloquent with emotion, “...will you give to Sayid for me? Will you bring him special foods and snacks, offer to wash and mend his clothes, find things for him to read? Will you touch him sometimes, a pat on his back, a grasp of his hand... just briefly? He is never touched and we all need to touch and be touched.”

Claire nodded. Clearly the man's intentions were honest and good, even honorable. _He does love him_... she thought, noticing that this did not seem strange to her at all.

“I think I can... Hmmm.... Okay, I will do this for you, Jacob.” Claire said, smiling at him, already feeling a great deal of affection for him in spite of being strangers. “But, I still don't really know who you are, or why you are here.”

"I take care of the Island, Claire. I take care of all of you."

_His eyes..._

Jacob smiled. Clare felt that she was protected, that the energy of this man was familiar. 

“And so, Claire,” he said, slipping from his perch and slowly walking the few steps to stand in front of her, to grasp her hand and look into her eyes. "Whenever Sayid is near, give to him... for me."

Claire watched as the man turned away from her, away from the camp, puzzled at his peculiar, relaxed gait as he disappeared through the trees.

_Blue... so blue..._

[ **CHAPTER TWELVE: Who the hell is Jacob?** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380248/)

“Well, well...” Sawyer came walking up from the water, looking past Sayid at his pack to see if he brought anything back with him. “...If it isn't Captain Falafel.” Sayid had resigned himself to this particular nickname long ago, as Sawyer had clearly decided on it. It had a certain charm, since he hated falafel. Not that he would tell Sawyer that. 

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	12. Who the hell is Jacob?

“Sayid is back!” Hurley announced loudly.

Soon the whole camp was within view of Sayid's tent, where he stood assessing everyone's well-being while they looked him over, asking him where he went.

Sayid smiled, and looked at everyone. _I love these people_ , he thought.

“Whatever happened, it's good,” Hurley observed. “I didn't know Sayid could even smile like that!”

 _Dear Hurley..._ Sayid thought. _He misses nothing._

“Sayid got laid! Sayid got laid!” Hurley was laughing and high fiving with Kate, who clearly agreed, though she was watching Sayid with a look of concern. People repositioned themselves so they could see Sayid clearly, waiting for him to speak.

“Well, well...” Sawyer came walking up from the water, looking past Sayid at his pack to see if he brought anything back with him. “...If it isn't Captain Falafel.” Sayid had resigned himself to this particular nickname long ago, as Sawyer had clearly decided on it. It had a certain charm, since he hated falafel. Not that he would tell Sawyer that. 

“Sayid got laid,” Hurley repeated, turning back to his friend. “Come on Sayid, 'fess up. How did you manage to get laid on a mostly deserted island?”

Sawyer stopped, looking at Sayid closely. “Is it true?” he asked.

“Just because I live on an island doesn't mean I don't get to have secrets,” Sayid pronounced with a straight face, enjoying immensely how everyone's faces had changed, and how most jaws remained dropped a measure or two.

“Do not worry,” he waved at Kate and Sawyer, clearly about to grill him for details. “It is not one of the Others.”

“Well, who else is there?” Sawyer complained.

“Jacob,” said a voice, and everyone turned to look at Claire, who was standing near Sayid. Sayid felt a sudden glow that shot through his body. He loved this name... and it had turned into heat inside of him.

“Who the hell is Jacob?” Sawyer looked at Kate, then at Claire, who turned to face everyone. “And don't tell me he's some spirit in a cabin, 'cause we all know that was bullshit.”

Sawyer waited for an answer, then suddenly added, “Wait... _YOU are doing a guy,_ Sayid?!? Isn't that against your religion, or military training, or.....”

 _Sawyer has actually ran out of witty reparte,_ Sayid observed with a smile. He remained quiet, deciding how to handle his new status as homosexual ghost lover in the tiny beach front soap opera of survivors that occupied his time.

“Jacob is real,” Claire began again. “He is the protector of the island. I have met him. We've all met him. He watches over us.”

Everyone was still waiting for Sayid to speak.

“Look, we can settle this with very few words,” Sayid began, giving Claire a cautionary look. “Jacob has invited me to be his friend, and I have accepted. He is no threat at all to anyone here, or anyone on the island for that matter. He has not come to our camp...” Not entirely true... “but may in the future. In the meantime, I ask that you allow me to enjoy the company of someone outside of our camp. I have spent all of my time guarding you for a very long time. I need to enjoy something different. Thank you.”

Sayid stood there, looking at everyone. He clearly wasn't going to say anything more, and Claire had not moved from his side. People began wandering off, discussing this development and looking back at Sayid with a wide range of reactions. Kate gave Claire a meaningful look before pulling at Sawyer's shirt, turning him to her with a “let's go” look, then walking him back towards the water.

“Really?” asked Hurley. “You got laid, and you're going to talk to a girl about it?” he looked at Claire, who made a face. Sayid said nothing.

“Later, dude,” Hurley promised before wandering off, clearly disgusted.

Sayid turned to Claire, then untied the flap to his tent and pulled it back for her. They kicked off their shoes, and he stepped in after her, placing his pack on the floor and motioning her to the little chair next to the door. He sat in the other chair, next to the bed, on which he placed his watch and sunglasses, rubbing his wrist where the sweat had built up under the band, lifting his hair for a moment, allowing the back of his neck to cool.

Claire looked around at Sayid's tent, clearly enjoying this little tour of his private space.

Sayid looked expectantly at Claire for several moments. She smiled back, letting him begin.

“Claire, why have you never told me that you met someone on this island, someone who is not one of the Others?”

“He asked me to wait, to wait until he was ready to talk to you,” she answered.

“And what else did he discuss with you?”

“We didn't really talk,” she answered, hesitating for a moment before she continued. “Well, we did, but he asked me not to tell you yet.”

“I saw him here,” she gestured towards the path outside his tent. “I think he was watching you. He was there when I came down the path,” Claire explained. “And he came by later, a few times, just to check on you, on how you were doing... And then he said he was going to talk to you finally, and that it would be okay to tell you about him, to tell everyone.”

Sayid was listening closely, and seemed puzzled. “Why did you say that everyone had met Jacob?”

“We all know him,” she asserted. “He knows all of us from before we came to the island.”

Sayid remembered again a moment when he had a feeling that perhaps he had met Jacob _before_.

Claire gazed at Sayid shyly, with a knowing smile. “Jacob loves you, Sayid.”

“Yes.” Sayid answered, smiling. How he loved to hear that name...

**[ CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Let them wonder](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380311/) **

Somehow their pleasure did not demand release for several minutes, until there was only their moist breath and a shared stillness, a trance of pleasure that engulfed the gentle rocking and shifting of their bodies until their skin began like fire to ripple with ecstatic pleasure, over and over an aurora borealis of blissful sensation leaping and curling about on their skin.


	13. Let them wonder

A hand...

Sayid sat up, a hand on his mouth... He stopped his hand from grasping his weapon.

_It is him..._

“Sayid...” said a familiar voice, and Sayid felt himself melting into the unseen figure somehow sitting beside him, bending to Sayid's ear in the complete darkness of Sayid's tent.

“Jacob....” Sayid breathed with a grasping need, clinging to Jacob as a surge of ecstatic relief filled him, bringing the very beginning of tears to his eyes. _I never cry..._ he thought as he moved over on the cot, pulling then rolling on top of Jacob, covered his naked body with his own, pressing into him, his head side by side against Jacob's, pushing against him, squeezing, squeezing. His response was so complete, so honestly visceral that he was awed by its simple intensity.

The sounds of urgent kissing and quiet moans of fierce need and pleasure stayed close in the confines of Sayid's tent as the men wrestled against each other, kissing and licking lips, ears, face, eyes, neck and shoulders and breasts, trying to get even closer, to become one.

They caressed and squeezed each other in their passion, their pleasure feeding their pleasuring... the pleasuring feeding their pleasure until Sayid stopped suddenly, pressing his pelvis hard against Jacob's hand, Jacob's head in his hands, kissing him deeply, slowly, slowly, feeling the urgent sensations still filling their bodies to overflowing, letting the pleasure and need subside a little, their shared breath becoming more steady as they kissed.

“My love,” Jacob whispered, his voice plaintive, resigned. “I have longed for you... for your touch...”

Sayid answered with lingering, loving kisses on Jacob's face, his hands, in his hair.

“My love...” Sayid said in a deep voice, low with pleasure.

Jacob was moved. It was the first time his reserved lover had named him thus.

“My love...” repeated Sayid as he gently turned Jacob over, laying on him, whispering what he wanted, what he would take from him. Sayid sat up, and found in the little jar of oil he had made for his hair and poured some into his hand, a little on Jacob as he found his way, pleasuring himself as Jacob relaxed for him, then Sayid slipped so slowly inside, so that Jacob moaned with pleasure.

“Ohhh,” Sayid whispered at Jacob's ear. “Ohhhh.” Still very slow, a little deeper each time, so they both seemed to fall out of time, out of normal sensation and reason into a place of pure pleasure rising through their bodies with a slow, hot burst of molten pleasure, over and over to overflowing, their breaths long and ecstatic, the noise of lovers given to something old and new, necessary and unforeseen.

Somehow their pleasure did not demand release for several minutes, until there was only their moist breath and a shared stillness, a trance of pleasure that engulfed the gentle rocking and shifting of their bodies until their skin began like fire to ripple with ecstatic pleasure, over and over an aurora borealis of blissful sensation leaping and curling about on their skin.

“Do you feel that?” whispered Sayid.

“Yes,” Jacob said.

Minutes.

“When, my love...?” Sayid offered control to Jacob, a statement that was a question, his body pulling on itself from the pleasure, still pulling against Jacob, rubbing his chest of black curly hair on Jacob's smooth back, his hot breath at Jacob's ear, his face on Jacob's hair, loving him over and over in this gentle rhythm of full body bliss and ecstasy. He took Jacob into his hand, and Jacob moaned, pushing into his hand as Sayid pushed into him.

Sayid's rhythm became faster, his movements more furtive, and Jacob allowed himself to match Sayid's building need for release. He felt his own release imminent, rocking in Sayid's arms as he began.

“Now, Sayid...” Jacob said quietly, his voice full of necessity.

 _Do not call out... do not call out..._ Sayid thought as he called out, as he felt himself slipping, then pouring over the withdrawing edge of a great length of pleasure which somehow caught him and demanded from him everything, every muscle, vessel, organ and fold of skin given over to a flood of physical release made from love... all of this from love.

After a very long while, sweaty kisses and rubbing of hair and face and hands together in the dark, Sayid whispered: “Everyone knows you are here.”

Sayid could feel Jacob smiling in the darkness.

“Yes, they do,” Jacob agreed.

“Let them wonder.” Sayid said with satisfaction. _I am with Jacob now_.

Hours had passed and they remained entwined, naked to the night's breezes, a tiny silver light growing behind them as the waning crescent topped the mountains and the jungle changed, somehow larger, somehow smaller, the wind with more longing in the trees, their own sighs made of more breath and the lapping of the waves closer and yet more still.

 _The Island... what is this island...?_ Sayid closed his eyes, touching the island as a living being, as his bed, the air on his skin and in his hair, his eyes, his lips. He could smell the island and the ocean that surrounded it. 

“My love,” Jacob began.

“My love," Sayid answered. He could just see Jacob now by the tender light of the rising moon. _What has he come to tell me?_

They were quiet for a bit longer, a way of loving each other. Sayid wondered again about the very small pouch Jacob wore around his neck on a soft leather cord. He decided again to not ask about it.

Jacob sat up, and after a few moments Sayid also sat up, his back to the netted wall. He drank from his canteen, savoring the cool flavor on the polished metal, remembering several places that this canteen had been a part of stories large and small, then offered the canteen to Jacob.

Jacob handed it back, then settled back at the head of the little cot and gazed at Sayid, whose dark outline was now just visible in the tiny ray of moonlight finding its way in through the netting. The light caught Sayid's eyes when he turned his head, gazing up at the moon, his eyes dark and full of feeling, of presence, and awakened purpose. Sayid waited, drinking again from the canteen.

“Tell me,” Sayid said at last, just able to see Jacob's eyes, his hair, his lips.

Jacob waited, his reticence communicated before the words.

"You have chosen me, my love."

Sayid was silent, finding in his own heart that this was true.

“My brother knows this,” he said. “And that I have come to tell you.”

Sayid felt a little thrill of fear go through him. _Tell me what?_ He asked himself. 

Sayid waited.

"He knows you have chosen me, Sayid. My brother will come now, while we are apart." He was silent for a moment. "I cannot free him of his darkness, Sayid. Will you help me?"

"What is his darkness?" Sayid asked quietly.

"I will tell you, but not now." He began again. " You both have a darkness. The Island has shown you to me, and I have chosen you for me, Sayid. But the Island has also chosen you for my brother."

"How can I help if I don't know what this darkness is? What is 'a darkness'? What do you see in me?" Sayid demanded quietly. _I did not choose to come to this island_ , he thought. _And I_ _did not choose to meet this brother_. He heard the impatience in his voice and calmed the grip of frustration starting in his muscles.

"You have a darkness, Sayid. You have two. One at another's hand, and many at your own hand. _Your own hand, Sayid_." Jacob waited, then spoke again. "My brother met his requirement long ago. But he has an unanswered brutality, a reserve of bitter hate that must be changed to love. As you have, as you must do as well."

Sayid was silent. Somehow Jacob knew of the places in himself that he had shut away, that he had lived through, then worked so hard to leave behind. But _here_... there was more to Jacob's words. He heard pain in Jacob's voice, and Sayid had never heard anything of this pain before.

"My love..." Sayid said. He waited for Jacob to speak. The sounds of night slipped through the tent on the fresh breeze of night, bringing the sudden fragrance of the _neem_ flower, calming Sayid. He breathed deeply, focusing, thinking, thinking of Jacob's pain. He could not bear his sadness. Jacob had asked. He found that was enough.

"I will," Sayid said. He could feel Jacob softening in the darkness, finding Sayid's hand on the bed, exhaling a long breath of relief.

"What will happen?" Sayid whispered.

"He will choose." Jacob's voice was sad again.

"What will he do...?" Sayid whispered with wonder to himself.

 _I shall get through this as I always do_ , Sayid calmed himself with the confidence of experience. Sayid squeezed Jacob's hand reassuringly, and Jacob's firm squeeze caused Sayid's heart to wrench a little bit in his chest. _This is love_ , he thought. Then ... _why must we remain separated?_

Sayid realized their sweet moments together were almost over. He wanted to pull Jacob to him, but he sat as Jacob arose to dress, preparing to return to the little cave, to live apart from his Sayid once more.

“I still do not really understand this... or even why it is necessary,” Sayid complained about their separation.

“You will understand,” promised Jacob, finding and caressing Sayid's cheek with the back of his hand, soft and rough at the same time. “You will...” he said as he slipped off the bed and came to his feet, as did Sayid. They hugged and kissed, lingering in embrace before Jacob pulled aside the flap and stepped out onto the hard soil giving way to sand, slipping into his sandals as Sayid emerged, longing on his face and in his posture.

“We are not saying goodbye, Sayid,” Jacob said as he put his forehead on Sayid's. "We will be together again." He squeezed Sayid's arm, gathering himself to the task at hand. He then turned to walk up the path, disappearing in the darkness pooled there amongst the thick trees.

Sayid stood so for several moments, trying to comprehend why he must let Jacob go, and not run after him. _This must end_ , he thought, ready to face this “brother” and pass whatever test he and the island thought he should endure.

“I will go and find this brother,” he said softly, almost laughing as he reflected on how strange it was to have been brought here by an island. “Very strange....” he whispered under his breath as he stood alone at the edge of the tropical forest that surrounded a little camp by the sea. 

**[CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Stars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380338) **

Their lovemaking had become fervent, sometimes blindly physical with need, sometimes smouldering with a slow and deliberate passion, sometimes light and playful, combined with talk and even eating, feeding each other, massaging each other. Sometimes Sayid stayed alone, isolated inside while Jacob loved him, approaching only his body and his responses, saying nothing during or after.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	14. Stars

Sayid decided that he would go south, away from the beach of the sentinel, along the familiar beach of their camp, and around the distant point to the very long beach beyond. He had packed enough food for several days, and carried his weapon at his back, something he always did away from camp even before some unfortunate encounters with the Others were nearly or completely solved by displaying it.

If the brother did not appear, he would enjoy scouting this area again as it had been several weeks since he had been this way, and it was his favorite part of the island. No one was ever here, no survivors, no worrying about encounters with the Others, just Sayid, and he preferred it that way. He relaxed into the sea breeze and the warm afternoon sun as he walked along the water, just past the reach of the waves, following the upper edge of the wet sand where the sand was most stable.

As the afternoon passed he had settled into a comfortable rhythm, enjoying the glow of exercise and the fresh air filling his lungs, scouring away everything but the present moment, and the golden light on the sparkling water. He had a place in mind to camp, but did not hurry, for there was plenty of time to arrive there before evening light. He felt no fear, and any concern had slipped away, so that he felt his usual sense of safety in focus, awareness and concentration, a mental sharpness which had served him as a soldier and become essential to his personality.

As he approached the selected spot, he felt his usual sadness mixed with happiness to see the little heart he had carved into the tree still plainly visible, a memento to a night spent there with Shannon, before she found out that Boone had died. He settled into this place again, into his easy, simple camp, eating, drinking and then refreshing his water at the little stream nearby, watching the sun go down over the sea, simply enjoying solitary moments which he required and began to crave if too long passed between times away from camp.

Sayid thought of the time he had spent with Jacob, before he had returned to camp. Their conversations about many things, about Sayid's life before the island, and Jacob's life here, how he had learned to take care of himself, and keep himself occupied.

Jacob taught Sayid a strange little board game, with round pieces made of polished stones. They found they were a good match, and spent hours playing, watching the sun move across the sky, chatting again about what they knew about each other, delighting in each other's voice and presence.

Their lovemaking had become fervent, sometimes blindly physical with need, sometimes smouldering with a slow and deliberate passion, sometimes light and playful, combined with talk and even eating, feeding each other, massaging each other. Sometimes Sayid stayed alone, isolated inside while Jacob loved him, approaching only his body and his responses, saying nothing during or after.

Sayid turned his head to look up the beach which was glowing red with the last rays of the sun. The red moved into the treetops, then disappeared as the sun continued below the horizon. The night migration of seabirds back to their roosts was a familiar sight at sundown, some noisy and some silent, some solitary and some in groups.

The last light of the sun was fading, his body somehow heavy as he sat very still, letting the last remnants of any social obligation slip from his body. As night fell, he remembered Shannon with pleasure, and the pleasure they had shared, golden in the firelight. Further down the beach, Sayid could hear a the night heron croaking as it lifted from the little rocky outcropping that fed the stream down to this little alcove of beach.

He lay back on his bed roll, watching as the sky turned to liquid azure, then dense indigo, then the endless, unearthly black of space with stars and stars and stars...

After a time, he rolled into his sleep sack and fell asleep.

He dreamed that he was back in Moscow, feeling that he was watching himself as he found his familiar Glock 9mm and Omega silencer in hand and ready under his coat, watching as a man dined with his two goons nearby, obviously enjoying his food and drink as he watched a weightlifting match on TV.

He swore in Russian, yelling at the TV, then suddenly turned to look straight at Sayid, who had thought he had gone unnoticed. He looked around, noticing that somehow everyone else had left, all but the man and his bodyguards, who all looked at Sayid.

“Come work for me,” he cajoled Sayid genially, completely unafraid, though he knew that Sayid was there to kill him. “I shall make you my _pravaya ruka_ , dear Sayid...” Suddenly the men turned as one and were firing through the windows, they were all shooting into the street as though Sayid was no longer there with them, the clouds of spent gunpowder spinning around Sayid as he walked slowly from the restaurant and out to the street.

There was one body on the sidewalk. He stopped, staring at the impossible. He could not see who it was. But he recognized Nadia, dead. Then it was Shannon. His confusion was physically painful, and he closed his eyes.

Finally he turned away, everything around him moving so that he tried over and over to regain his balance.

**[CHAPTER FIFTEEN: The test](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380362#workskin) **

"Jacob," he called out. "Jacob!!" _Jacob! Come to me, Jacob._ He knew that Jacob could come in this way, but did not. Abandoned, he was breaking down now. Horror and despair had shut down his mind, and his breaths became cries, as he fought aimlessly with his body.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	15. The test

Sayid was suddenly awake, and barely moved as he slipped his finger out onto the trigger guard of his .38, the handgun warm from his body over it. 

He remained relaxed, looking for a second through half open eyes before he rolled quickly from his bed, already a soldier, ready to trip or kick, holding the handgun against his leg, controlling any urge to use the weapon out of surprise or fear.

He felt a strange sickness, a sudden nausea.

There sat Jacob in the quiet before dawn, or so it seemed. Jacob sat on the sand near his bed, looking at him with a peaceful look of relaxed anticipation.

 _Not Jacob_ , he thought.

“No, I am not Jacob.”

 _What sort of being can do this, can appear as another, and have the sound of his voice?_ Sayid protested inside, for it hurt that this was not his love, yet could look and sound like him.

“That is why,” he answered, and Sayid knew that he meant to choose this form because of the pain it caused in him. _The brother. The test._

They sat like this for several minutes. Sayid disciplined himself to let the man make the first move.

The man came to his feet, silent, eye to eye, his eyes so blue. Sayid could not help searching to find Jacob in those eyes, but he was not there, nothing of him at all, only something dark, in this moment, repulsive.

 _Not my beloved's body, not my beloved's voice..._ Sayid protested inside. He realized he was afraid. This test was already beyond him. larger than him. _The way I was always larger than them...their fate in my hands._

“What are you?” Sayid demanded quietly, wanting to fight this false appearance. The man looked at him for a moment longer with those bluest of blue eyes, with Jacob's kind and beautiful face, and when he smiled Sayid was falling inside, reaching for memories of supple hands, lips offered in love, a brother and a lover nothing like this shadowy presence, offering nothing, seeking nothing, taking everything.

“What is your name?” Sayid remained calm, still gripping his weapon against his leg.

“I have no name for you... Sayid,” the brother answered with some venom, looking briefly at the place where Sayid's hand hid the gun against the folds of his pants. “And _that_ cannot hurt me. **  
**

He had not moved, but then his head tilted so slowly, back a little, easily visible in the growing light, his voice dark and menacing: **“You will serve me, Sayid Jarrah. You will endure and be used by me, and I will call you mine.”**

With two steps he had overtaken Sayid, grasping him around the neck, moving with a speed and a strength well beyond that he knew from Jacob.

Sayid was shocked by Jacob's body used for this sudden overwhelming violence, and felt his heart go cold, breaking, falling as he fell, as he chose his next move.

He was moving in an instant, spinning away, seeming to retreat while pressing into the man from below, kicking hard on his knee and groin as he spun over and landed again on his knees, immediately on his feet. He found himself encircled by the man, and easily overpowered by him, turning Sayid away from him and pushing him to the ground, flattening him into the baked sand in loose mounds over the hard earth of the nearby trees.

The brother made sounds of satisfaction as he was clearly exultant over Sayid, who struggled upward, his movements coming slower and more desperate when he could not escape, finding himself over and over face down on the sand. The man grabbed Sayid by an ample handful of his thick hair and pulled him to his feet, then threw him back down as soon as he got his balance. He did this several times, humiliating him. “Weak...” the man said. “Wanting love, such a dirty, disgusting boy. _Is this what you want?_ ” Again he pulled Sayid up, this time pushing downward with him, his knee on Sayid' back as he pressed his face hard into the loose sand, so that Sayid must breathe through his mouth, dry and filled with sand.

Sayid tried, but he could not fight free, could not find his feet, could not get away. Each time he was pushed down he felt a successive dark curtain of fear and humiliation drawn across his mind, blocking all else out. He had no time to prepare for such defeat and despair, because it was not possible, not something he could have ever imagined, that someone could mimic the uncle's exact voice, his exact words. He grasped inside himself for something he thought of as his, anything with which to fight against this onslaught, the fight for his mind.

_No no no......_

Now deep within him the memory came, feral, hot as liquid fire, the trusted neighbor leading him gently to his house, feeding him so sweetly, so kind as Sayid was relaxed and playful, touching the man's possessions while he had watched him in silence. Like a whisper he came and caught him up, beating him again and again as the hours like days passed, then each time raping him brutally, leaving him bleeding and torn physically and inside his mind, each time cast aside and castigated for bringing it onto himself, by seeking favor with everyone he met, and expecting love from them.

He had returned home ruined, no longer a child. He hid his injuries, and began to live apart from others, from all of life. He left the room when his parents entered it, for he could not bear what they must be thinking about him, so filthy and shameful as he was. His world became his prison, and all learning became the means to somehow mimic the ways of adults without their help, always struggling beyond the survival skills of a child. How easily he began to change himself, adapting the skills that were expected by his father, brutality.

The brother was laughing at his ear as the released memory burned Sayid inside, full, unprocessed and raw... as his beloved's laughter taunted with his intimate breath and cruel pleasure at his ear.

_No no no... not my beloved's body, not my beloved's voice._

_Monster_.... he hissed inside, hoping he would hear.

The brother responded by trudging away and returned through the sand, and for a moment Sayid registered where he was, and the time of day. The brother was drawing out a long coil of rope, and still holding Sayid down with his weight upon his back, quickly forced Sayid's aching arms with hands together above his head on the sand, tying his hands with long coils left hanging from his wrists. The second his knee was lifted from his back Sayid was moving away, rolling before coming to his feet--to find the man already in front of him. Sweet Jacob stood with a simple, easy smile of hateful delight.

 _No..._ Jacob grabbed him by the rope on his hands. _No..._ Jacob dragged him to the nearest tree. _No..._ Jacob's hands encircling the tree as he fought for his mind.

Sayid could see those hands, so like the ones that had loved him, had touched him with love, watching as Jacob's hands were binding him to the tree. He could hear the man breathing with Jacob's breath, a certain warm fragrance as he quickly knotted the rope, testing it, making noises of satisfaction as he stepped back, leaving Sayid on his knees, still breathing in spurts, coughing and spitting soil and sand.

_The thing that I fear most..._

This is not possible. No one had ever truly overpowered Sayid physically in his entire adult life, not without the means to get free by his strength and wits. He had cut himself off from that other boy who was damaged, lost in shame and self-hatred. That _forever child_ who felt powerless, overcome by a force much greater than his own, a force that came to him in the form of the beloved neighbor who had loved him and petted him, his eyes always full of delight whenever Sayid came into the room, running to hug his legs and call him Uncle.

Sayid was jerked from this moment of uncontrollable reverie The brother had grasped Sayid's hair again, then crouching next to him, pulled his head back so that their eyes met in the growing light.

_My beloved's eyes..._

Sayid's face was covered with snot, soil and sand. He spit, matching the man's gaze, keeping his eyes up, gasping for breath, conquered but still defiant.

Still the man looked into his eyes, waiting. Until Sayid somehow realized that _this_ would be something much more than the worst that a human could inflict on him, and that there would be no reprieve, no way to endure it and remain whole.

 _A creature, not a man_ , Sayid thought.

The creature smiled.

As he stood and ripped Sayid's pants down from his hips, the symbolic sound of ripping made Sayid cry out in fear, then the man reached under him, pulling Sayid's pelvis up as he fell to his knees behind him, as he pulled Sayid's entire body taught on the rope biting deep into his wrists.

Sayid's consciousness was no longer his, and surged as a vast undoing that rolled as cold fear through his entire being.

_Jacob...! Why didn't you warn me?_

"Jacob," he called out. "Jacob!!" _Jacob! Come to me, Jacob._ He knew that Jacob could come in this way, but did not. Abandoned, he was breaking down now. Horror and despair had shut down his mind, and his breaths became cries, as he fought aimlessly with his body.

"Jacob! Jacob...!!" _Why do you betray me? Do you love me still?_

 _Steady, steady, steady...._ Sayid found his soldier's mantra arising from habit. But it made little difference as he pulled at his bonds, blood oozing from his hands and wrists, kicking and rolling, desperate to find a way that would stop this nightmare, to keep it from destroying him, as the child in him was once destroyed.

The man enjoyed his struggles, waiting until Sayid was beyond tired, then suddenly bucked Sayid's knees up and under him, he then let Sayid drop away from him, back to the ground, struggling again to keep himself flat. Again and again, he pulled Sayid up against him, then let him pull away.

Sayid felt the cold darkness in him like a heavy liquid, and a steady hissing in his ears as he was pulled up and was forced over and over onto his knees. Finally he was too exhausted to continue, and the man pushed him closer to the tree, pulling the untied ends of the rope back and holding his ankles tightly, tying the ends to each of Sayid's ankles, keeping them forward, controlling their distance from his hands.

Keeping him taught on the rope, he lifted Sayid with one arm under his pelvis, and Sayid began to move about in quick desperation as he felt the fingers searching, then guiding as the man found entry. Sayid cried out with pain when the man entered him, as he brutally continued forcing his way into him. He pushed into Sayid again and again, keeping him up on his knees, seeking the depths of him, speaking with Jacob's voice loving words of pleasure and promise, then whispering filth in his ear in Arabic, calling him a whore and worse, just as the beloved neighbor had done so many years ago.

Sayid reached again for his strength, and brought it forth in a hissing promise of death, a tumble of words distorted by the violent jarring movements of the physical assault on his body. He would kill this brother. Just as he had killed so many others. 

_But then I will lose him, my beloved Jacob_ , he realized.

 _Jacob_... Sayid called out in his mind. _Jacob...!_ _Where is Jacob, my Jacob..._ He felt himself sobbing and knew that he was undone at last, his confidence in finding escape and dominance utterly destroyed... and with nothing else to hold to but a single craving:for his undoing to somehow end, for an inevitable relief and the only way out of this place of hell. 

And in that moment of accepting defeat, of ceasing to fight that long ago fight, he heard himself cry out, the words seeming to come from a hidden place inside, an unknown place which held the vitality and promise of his life and his future.

 _“ _Ana bahebek_!”_ Sayid cried out, his voice so strong and shaped by desperation, and then longing, the breath coming as uneven sobs.

 _“Ana bahebek...!!”_ He repeated, breaking down into convulsive sobs, as a surge of fire in huge waves that came up from somewhere so very tight, a place he had somehow held back until this moment. He felt his heart break open as he called out to his love, his heart somehow new and tender with the love of that one rushing into his broken heart in return.

 _“I love you...”_ he cried softly, picturing Jacob's face and his loving eyes, drinking deeply from the beautiful memories of their loving, accepting this moment, this _here..._ as the taste of his tears, the moving inside with the sweet feelings of release as he sobbed, as he slipped away from everything he had ever become in this life, gently flowing with the real and perfect love that he found pouring from and into his heart, free from endless dark currents of fear or pain, a pure and endless river to his future and his place at Jacob's side.

"I choose you..." Sayid whispered, his voice a hoarse release, breaking with subtle emotion.

Immediately the brother was gone.

[ **CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Two brothers** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380374/)

Sayid tried not to move at all, still moaning softly from pain as he cried. The silent tears fell from his face, a face held and changed by pain, a pain that bent his body, shaking gently from deep inside. Jacob felt himself tormented by Sayid's pain, and burned to take it from him, to kiss his tears, caress his face. But Sayid was still deep and far, and Jacob did not try to reach him, but waited for him, so close, keeping watch, vigilant for that moment when he would emerge, and might reach for him.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	16. Two brothers

Sayid lay crying gently into the sand, inhaling sharply between gentle sobs. He was alone. The tears still came up from that long ago place. He felt himself a broken container, thrown aside, ruined and inconsolable, his essence somehow diluted, pouring from him into the sand, into nothing. He touched nothing and nothing touched him. He need do nothing except encompass the grief of another age and another continent, his grief for the boy that was despised, then damaged so long ago.

"No..." Sayid felt his swollen lips move, thought there was no sound. "No." He could not escape it, the image of the savagely worn desk filled his vision. The bolt for the cuffs, the worn spot on the edge of the desk where someone lived their last moments... where he sat, passing judgement, _choosing to torture_.

Sayid could hear the crunch sound of sand sinking underfoot as someone approached and knelt to him, then touched him so gently, so that he rolled so slightly into him, allowing himself to drift into the care of his lover. Jacob carefully undid his bonds, then lifting his curls, moaned and kissed his bruised and torn face, wiping Sayid's eyes and mouth carefully with his shirt.

“ _Sayid_...” he whispered gently, carefully taking the man into his arms, then rocking him so sweetly onto him, allowing Sayid's moist and sand caked hair to fall back down around his face like a curtain.

After a time, Sayid's breath became silent, a noiseless sigh of pain with each inbreath, a silent surrender to nothing with each outbreath.

Jacob leaned forward and gently placed Sayid back upon the sand. He stood, and taking up Sayid's trampled bed roll, shook it out nearby, returning to lay it next to him out on the sand still cool and mild in the morning shade.

Sayid groaned as Jacob lifted him and moved him onto the blanket, placing him on it so gently. He examined the brutal cuts in Sayid's wrists and hands, then carefully removed his torn pants. He went through Sayid's pack, finding a spare shirt and his water bottle.

He used the shirt and water to sponge Sayid clean, turning him gently, carefully finding and cleaning his wounds, then pressing the cool cloth onto his face over and over to soothe and comfort him.

When Sayid was still turned to him, he held the water flask to Sayid's lips, whispering to him to drink. He poured a little trickle between his swollen lips, keeping Sayid's hair back as he trickled water over his face and the edges of his hair, the water falling into the sand. But Sayid did not drink, and Jacob finally let his head slip back upon the bedroll.

Jacob pulled the opaque top blanket up and over Sayid's head, then laying beside him, slipped under the blanket with him, sharing a soothing world of quiet and warmth, away from the salty air, safe from the world, close in the darkness. Still turned to Jacob, Sayid's breath collected as moisture on Jacob's face and arm as Jacob very lightly caressed Sayid's face and pushed back his hair.

Sayid tried not to move at all, still moaning softly from pain as he cried. The silent tears fell from his face, a face held and changed by pain, a pain that bent his body, shaking gently from deep inside. Jacob felt himself tormented by Sayid's pain, and burned to take it from him, to kiss his tears, caress his face. But Sayid was still deep and far, and Jacob did not try to reach him, but waited for him, so close, keeping watch, vigilant for that moment when he would emerge, and might reach for him.

The sun was at mid-morning and creeping up the sand when Jacob sensed a change in Sayid. He seemed to settle into a place in himself where he could be comforted by sleep, and slept deeply at last. Still Jacob stayed close, watching him sleep.

The mid-day sun had reached them, warming their legs and then their shoulders, and Jacob held the edge of the blanket up to let in some of the cooling breeze. Sayid stirred, and Jacob sat up,

Jacob brought some fresh water from the nearby stream, which Sayid again refused. Jacob went aways down the beach to sit where he could still hear Sayid if he were to call, singing to himself, making soothing songs beside his mother the sea, whispering to her his fears. When Jacob returned to Sayid, he had moved somewhat, and some of the water had been taken. He knew then that Sayid had chosen to live, _to become_... and he sat alone beside him, waiting.

When Sayid next awoke, Jacob held the water bottle to Sayid's lips, whispering for him to drink. Sayid reached for the bottle and held it as he drank several long pulls of water, spilling little, swishing his dry mouth and spitting, then drinking more.

He lay back, instantly asleep. After a time, he rolled onto his other side, and Jacob lay at his back.

The sand around them baked now from the afternoon sun, and Jacob slid out and walked a little into the trees, watching Sayid, who remained still. When he returned and slipped back under the blanket, hot from the sun, Sayid rolled onto his back with a sharp inbreath. His eyes fluttered, and Jacob sat up a little, gazing down at Sayid, needing him, wanting so badly to wake him, to gather him up, to go back to before... to carry him away from this forever place of defeat and pain. How it cut him inside that he might have kept him safe, but could not, no... he no longer lived for only himself, not for a very long time now.

 _This is why there are two of us... two brothers, who are so different..._ Jacob thought. He pictured what his brother must had done to Sayid on this beach while Jacob was curled up in another world, the world in his breaking heart where Sayid need not pay for torturing, pay for murdering, and still be his. Could Sayid somehow relinquish--without reliving--the choice he made when emerging on the other side of a child's undoing, the choice then to conquer others, as had his father.

Would he now choose love instead?

The sun was deep in the west, and the tide crashing high on the shore when Sayid stirred and moved slightly, moaning. Eyes still closed, he moved his arms, gingerly touching each of his wrists, then his lips and face, guaging his wounds. Jacob watched him closely, letting Sayid decide.

_How will he treat me? What will he say, that I did not come? That I did not help him?_

Sayid reached out for him, immediately finding him so near above him, and carefully pulled Jacob into him, grasping him, sighing again and again as he shook, making more tears now, rocking against Jacob as he breathed in relief and breathed out his pain, and Jacob the only answer to that pain, making the sounds of finding the one most feared to be lost.

 _“Jacob... my Jacob...”_ whispered Sayid, his mouth dry, his voice raspy.

Jacob began to weep.

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Now cracks a noble heart** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380383/)

On the third day, as the birds began in the dark morning promise, as the low waves themselves seemed to slip in on a liquid hush, Sayid rolled onto his back and tried a very deep breath, moving about slightly, then very gently pushing back his hair, his breath breaking and uneven from the pain in his hands and body as he settled, finding comfort again in stillness. “Jacob,” he said quietly. "I am here."

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	17. Now cracks a noble heart

Sayid lay still for two days and two nights, rolled up alone under the blanket away from the world, pushing away from Jacob and the sun, knowing only the sounds of the wind and the sea. Jacob curled up at his back under his own rough blanket, waiting for Sayid to come back from that dark battle, bringing news of a new life, breaking out of the old.

On the third day, as the birds began in the dark morning promise, as the low waves themselves seemed to slip in on a liquid hush, Sayid rolled onto his back and tried a very deep breath, moving about slightly, then very gently pushing back his hair, his breath breaking and uneven from the pain in his hands and body as he settled, finding comfort again in stillness.

“Jacob,” he said quietly.

“I am here.”

“Where were you... then?”

“Hidden away, my love.”

Sayid seemed to accept this, and Jacob listened as his breathing slowed, as Sayid settled back into his inner place of healing and struggle. Jacob felt his own body flushed and swaying from longing, the longing in his soul to somehow comfort Sayid physically, to give to his lover, and felt he could bear it no longer.

“ _Sayid_...” Jacob whispered.

“Yes, Jacob... I will take your kisses.”

Jacob lifted himself closer to Sayid and touching his hair, brought his lips so tenderly to his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes and then his lips. The kiss was gentle and chaste, and Sayid did not flinch, but did not kiss back. Jacob withdrew slightly, turning away just a little, sensing Sayid plumbing at last the long, hollowed darkness of his being as Jacob without flinching stayed so close, taking great comfort in not leaving him alone to this cruel task.

The sun had not yet peeked above the mountains behind them, but the gentle windsong had been trumped by the nearby chatter of birds already sailing through their waking hours, the wind teasing at the edges of the men's bedding, whirling past them in little spurts that felt warm and playful.

“Jacob,” Sayid said, remaining relaxed and still.

“Yes, my love.”

“I will take food.”

Jacob brought water and fresh mangos, opening them for Sayid, who took small bites and ate slowly. The food stung in his mouth where his teeth had dug in, and he took tiny sips of water frequently to dilute the juice. Jacob offered raw fish, then dried, but Sayid would not. Jacob ate the raw fish, saving his store of dried fish for Sayid, for when he was ready.

Jacob had returned again with two kinds of thick leaves, mixing the different saps together, spitting on the concoction as he whisked it around on his palms, rolling it loosely into a syrupy glob that he applied to Sayid's wrists and hands. Sayid lay dozing as Jacob massaged and very gently pulled the skin there, helping it to heal flat and soft. He did the same with Sayid's knees and ankles, then tenderly rubbed his body with braided leaves dipped in half dried coconut milk, antiseptic and fragrant from the little white flowers that he called _neem_.

Sayid had refused to allow his other wounds to be examined or treated. He had made urine on the sand, but eventually Jacob helped Sayid to stand and go into the trees for a time, listening for Sayid's call to return and help him back to the beach. Sayid seemed unconcerned as they returned, leaning on Jacob as they walked slowly, and Jacob took this as a sign that his injuries were healing well.

He helped Sayid to a spot on the sand a little ways off, then poured water though his hair, cleansing it with the _neem_ milk, gently working through the tangles before rinsing it clean, then tying his mass of black curls into a loose knot at the ends the way Sayid wore it.

Sayid clearly enjoyed the sensual water and touching of his hair, and when Jacob was done, he at last sat straight up, stretching muscles knotted from pain and inactivity, his body slimmer, softer, seeming reborn. Jacob felt himself on the other side of this change, and struggled with his painful longing for Sayid, praying inside that Sayid would find his way back to him. He reached slowly to Sayid, caressing his shoulder so lightly with his fingertips, then leaning forward to put his nose in Sayid's hair, sweet with his smell and the intoxicating flowers. Jacob was overcome, and Sayid sat still, facing away from him, looking out to sea as Jacob put his face on Sayid's shoulder and wept.

[ **CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: I am here** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380413/)

“Jacob, my Jacob...” Sayid whispered, his face suddenly so sad, as he let Jacob see in his eyes his great injury, his place of unhealed pain, still overwhelming and raw.

“My Sayid,” Jacob answered, his face also sad as he caressed Sayid's face, eye to eye, until the soldier Sayid put his hand over his own eyes, covering a squadron of tears.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	18. I am here

Sayid was dreaming. He sat on the beach alone, watching the wind capped waves. Then in the distance he saw Jacob walking solemnly up the beach towards him, bearing a small body, that of a child.

He saw someone behind Jacob who seemed to suddenly disappear.

Then Jacob was standing alone next to him, reaching down to him. Sayid was falling somehow as the island opened to another world underneath where the light was strange, and his body felt lighter somehow, so that he was almost floating.

He was back then, and floated out over the water, walking just above it, thrilled by this experience. But he knew he was going to fall again, and suddenly found himself far out by the breakers, where he fell into the rough water, dark and menacing, then turned back, swimming hard to make it back to shore.

When he reached the beach, he was standing again in the shallow water, and Jacob was standing by Shannon's tree praying over Sayid's bedroll, a small body in it, a young boy with dark hair and skin.

“I am here,” he called out to Jacob, but Jacob could not hear him.

Sayid woke up, reaching for Jacob, then turning to him, knowing he was waiting for him, had waited for him.

“Jacob...,” he breathed as Sayid embraced Jacob at last, feeling his skin, his warmth, his muscles and bones so perfect and put together just so, tasting him, breathing in his breath and his scent, breathing them out as the little sigh released, then slipping away, leaving a silent joy.

Jacob rolled at last into Sayid's embrace with the sweet joy of relief, opening to Sayid's need for him, answering his return, offered as physical love and affection. He let Sayid touch his face, remembering how it looked before his own was savaged, happy that one of them was still whole, and unharmed.

When Sayid withdrew, Jacob remained as he was for just a moment, closing his eyes, breathing slowly a long breath of relief and warm pleasure slipping into every part of his body.

He opened his eyes, and Sayid was so close, smiling and sighing as they settled back into each other. Sayid reached to touch Jacob's spiky hair, caressing his face again, his hand on Jacob's cheek, then feeling his own face welcoming and relaxed as he looked into Jacob's eyes, showing his soul, that he was still alive and returning, coming alive again.

“Jacob, my Jacob...” Sayid whispered, his face suddenly so sad, as he let Jacob see in his eyes his great injury, his place of unhealed pain, still overwhelming and raw.

“My Sayid,” Jacob answered, his face also sad as he caressed Sayid's face, eye to eye, until the soldier Sayid put his hand over his own eyes, covering a squadron of tears.

 _Men don't cry,_ he heard in his father's voice. "They do..." he said aloud to that long ago tormentor, feeling he still wished to be done with tears. How strange it was to realize he was just beginning.

Sayid still could not bear to be touched. Jacob expected this and was careful to follow Sayid's lead in how close they were to each other. He spoke in soothing tones, his movement expected, with no sudden changes. Still he insisted on helping Sayid up when he needed to go into the forest, waiting for his return, helping him to lie down again, minimizing his pain and effort.

Jacob visited the little stream several times a day, bringing to Sayid fresh water in Sayid's funny military cup, something familiar, to give him comfort. He kept Sayid comfortable, sheltered from the wind and the sun. He fed him the strange fruit with no name, and fresh fish and lobster-like crayfish, rubbed with freshly gathered savory herbs and flowers that tasted of lemon.

Jacob had lashed together gathered branches to form a sturdy rack for drying fish, and set about fishing in earnest, already finding the best spots and the best times of day, stopping to smile and call out to the clever corvids that made off with a certain portion of his efforts.

When Sayid called out, Jacob ran to him, comforting him, soothing him with his voice, hugging him gently whenever Sayid took him into his arms.

Three long days had passed, and Jacob could sense that Sayid at last wished to speak about it. He sat quietly next to Sayid at times, knowing this silent waiting and willingness was the beginning of listening.

Sayid began to look about himself, to find again his place in the world. He felt himself slowly put back together inside, rebuilding his emotional reserve and ballast, regaining his trust in life and the world that surrounded him.

_He is ready,_ thought Jacob, sitting with Sayid as the sun was descending, the highest clouds already trimmed with pink. _I love you_ , he said to his mother the sky, enjoying the changes in the air and sounds that began before twilight.

Sayid felt about for the way to begin, grateful for Jacob's devotion, absolutely certain of his presence and intentions.

“I was raped as a child.”

Six words, thought Jacob. They sat in silence again for some time, until the sun touched the water, turning the pinks to burnt orange, the birds black in sharp outline flying along the water's edge.

“A family friend. I loved him....” Sayid lapsed into silence. Jacob waited.

“Tell me,” Jacob whispered back, and Sayid was silent.

“Not yet,” Sayid answered at last.

“Ask me, “ Jacob persisted, and Sayid was moved, closing his eyes for several moments, settling into a deep place of relief, of not finding his way alone.

“Why did your brother do this... to me?” The words were pressured by Sayid's anger and desperate hurt.

“My love, I must ask you first, before I answer,” Jacob said.

“Ask.”

“What did you do to yourself, after you were raped, to make yourself strong?”

Sayid knew immediately what Jacob meant, what he had done as a boy, and what he had continued as a man.

“It is true that I have tortured, I have murdered,” Sayid said calmly, unapologetically. “I have not hidden this from you.”

“And who did you do these things for?” Jacob asked, turning to search Sayid's eyes for the understanding he offered him.

Sayid was silent. _The shame..._ he thought. _I bore the blame. That is what children do. The oldest part of me is this child. I left you for dead..._ he said to that broken child, abandoned, full of fear. _I am so sorry. So sorry._ Sayid realized he had turned away from Jacob, and turned back to him, his eyes askance, allowing him to see Sayid's weakness, his tears from this hurt upon which all other hurts were hung.

 _This is what makes me weak, this is what others use to make me their torturers, their murderers._ Sayid still could not move aside the familiar barrier deep inside himself, covering this poison, keeping it contained. Here, but no further. He saw clearly his true predicament: He could not get to the shame, and it controlled him.

He focused again on Jacob's eyes so close, patient and kind, so beautiful to him, and realized he would lose Jacob if he did not find his way through this challenge. But with Jacob, he would have love, and love was what he lacked, what he had kept away because of the shame.

 _Without love I would stop, I would go back to my own life, no destiny or path other than my own desires, a tool for the evil desires of others,_ he admitted to himself. _But what is love? It is a strange substance, always pure, somehow always seeking and essential at the same time._

“Without you, I would be destroyed by this,” Sayid said, and Jacob nodded his head very slightly. Sayid pictured himself the way he had left them, slaughtered like the ones he cruelly destroyed by evil and harm, his body left for no one to find, no one to miss, with only strangers to dispose of it. This certainly would have been his fate, the wages of his form of strength.

“Help me, Jacob...”

Jacob was quiet for a moment, weighing how much he would offer without Sayid asking first, and how this might distract him from his own growing understanding.

“What was the wound that my brother found in you, Sayid?” He asked, knowing the answer, helping Sayid to ask the right questions.

“I was raped as a child,” Sayid repeated, then gasping loudly. Immediately a rush of heat came up through his body, a few moments of release that freed him of a lifetime of guarded, painful adaptation, focusing on how to survive, forsaking the reason, the truth of himself.

“Tell me,” Jacob said, his eyes full of sorrow and hope.

Sayid found himself able to tell, to describe even the worst. He felt himself heavy with feeling as with Jacob's close attention and focus, he was able to open the place of pain and shame. He was overcome, then became lighter as relief and movement slipped into the still and contracted places.

When he finished, Sayid was exhausted, open, certain of the new.

 _He is ready..._ Jacob thought, so happy to be able to tell his lover this.

“You have chosen me, Sayid.” Sayid was clearly moved by this for his own reasons and looked down for a moment, lost again in his tears.

“The island is using this wound and the healing of it to make you into what it desires of you. You have chosen. The island has become your place and your story.”

Sayid was silent. “Will you be a part of my story, Jacob?” he asked.

“Yes, Sayid,” Jacob answered, smiling as Sayid smiled, his face changing from concern to delight. _Ohhh,_ Jacob thought. _May I always remember this moment, his face in this moment._

**[CHAPTER NINETEEN: Sayid is back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380431/) **

“Jack, everyone... please meet Jacob,” Sayid said with obvious affection. Some of the survivors hid giggles, others did not hide their curious looks and knowing smiles as they looked at each other, then back at Sayid and his handsome companion.


	19. Sayid is back!

Jacob had returned from an inland foray, covering the stretch of island between the mountains and the sea, going further and staying longer as he gathered. When he returned, Sayid was walking up and down the beach, choosing a path through the deepest sand to challenge all of his muscles, standing from time to time to stretch and rest before moving again.

Days had passed, and Sayid was beginning to feel strong enough to travel. He had reclaimed a tentative measure of his quiet confidence and curious nature, and sat beside Jacob, watching as Jacob stored harvested fruits and berries with herbs for medicine and seasoning, then sat matting gathered leaves.

Sayid methodically stretched and performed a few military exercises from time to time, feeling the familiar workings of his body mixed with something new and exhilarating, a hint of a new capacity and purpose growing in him, demanding exploration and expression.

They had agreed that it was time to leave their little spot on the beach, and Sayid watched as Jacob prepared their packs, shaking sand out of everything before rolling it up and lashing it together. They both stood for a moment, looking out to sea, feeling the great change in themselves since they had come to this place, remembering for a moment who they were together in this place before moving on.

They shouldered their packs, and Sayid smiling, took Jacob's hand and kissed it lightly, leading him a little ways with it before he let go, as they started up the beach and the way back to the little beach camp of the survivors.

“Sayid's back... Sayid's back,” Hurley shouted, running down the beach to greet him, almost knocking him over with his excited hug. Sayid hid the pain this caused him as a little crowd streamed in behind Hurley, all staring at the stranger standing next to Sayid, not sure whether to be excited or concerned.

“Hurley, this is Jacob.” Jacob smiled warmly and accepted Hurley's embrace.

“Dude, were you really a ghost in the cabin?” Hurley asked Jacob.

Jacob smiled, obviously enchanted. “It is so nice to finally be introduced to you, Hurley,” he said. Hurley looked at Jacob closely, then decided he was sincere and turned back to Sayid, keeping pace as the three men started walking again.

“You look different, Sayid,” Hurley said, laughing, dying to tell him about everything that had happened while he was away, but not able to think of anything.

“I _am_ different, Hurley,” Sayid answered. They were moving toward Jack now, who was walking out to meet them.

“Welcome back, Sayid,” Jack said with a smile, immediately noticing the healing circular scabs on Sayid's wrists and the deep scrapes still healing on his face.

“Thank you, Jack,” Sayid said, knowing that Jack had noticed. Jack nodded, and turned to look at Jacob.

“Jack, everyone... please meet Jacob,” Sayid said with obvious affection. Some of the survivors hid giggles, others did not hide their curious looks and knowing smiles as they looked at each other, then back at Sayid and his handsome companion.

“Hello, Jacob.... welcome,” Jack said, shaking Jacob's hand.

“How are you, Sayid? You've been gone awhile,” Jack squeezed Sayid's shoulder as they continued towards the center of camp, walking past the others still standing together, talking to each other about this exciting event. Sayid smiled at everyone as they walked, happy to see them. He had already appraised the condition of the camp, and now looked over each of the camp members, finding everything unchanged and to his satisfaction.

“I am well, Jack, and how are you?” Sayid answered in his formal English.

 _I have got to teach Sayid some contractions and slang words_ , Jack thought to himself, feeling his affection for his friend. Sayid seemed relaxed, with no need to communicate about his injuries. Jack followed his lead and did not ask about them.

Hurley had kept pace, and leaned into Sayid as they walked. “Don't forget the sock on the door,” he said quietly, with knowing excitement, and Sayid glanced at him with a look of pure confusion. Jack pointed subtly towards the beach, his face slightly pained, and Hurley left.

“Jack, we are very tired, and need to rest. I hope you don't mind if we talk some more later,” Sayid announced.

“Of course,” Jack said, remembering how much he liked Sayid's direct, rational nature and consistently sincere approach to life. _Sayid is good..._ he thought.

“Good,” Sayid replied, as they reached Jack's tent, where Jack stopped and Hurley reappeared with a modest lunch for two on a banana leaf, offering it to Sayid, smiling at Jacob. Sayid thanked his friend with a little bow of his head, then wincing, taking the offering with a smile.

As they turned and walked up to his tent, Sayid realized that he was returning home, that they were at his home as they kicked off their shoes, as he reached to untie the flap, peering inside. How different everything looked, though it all looked the same.

**[CHAPTER TWENTY: Ready to try](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380434/) **

Without deciding to do it, Sayid put his hand behind Jacob's head, and Jacob opened his eyes as Sayid pulled him gently to him, their lips meeting, sweet and salty his lover's taste, soft lips, teeth like treasures, his tongue a delicious delicacy.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	20. Ready to try

Sayid stood frozen at the door to his tent. Jacob stood a little off from him, facing the water, looking out over the waves, waiting for Sayid to invite him into his tent.

Sayid felt alone again, lost in what happened. _Where is the brother now?_ Sayid felt he could not feel safe again unless he knew where the brother was. _I am becoming wise, with Jacob's wisdom_ , he thought. He had endured an attack on his living energy, the life force from which desires for physical and all intimacies are born, and the survival and continuance of the species are ensured. 

_I must lay this down_ , he thought, trying to imagine himself completely healed, inside. He answered himself. _It is too big, I am ruined_. Then... _No no... That thought is so old... the thought of a boy._

Sayid was overcome, his hope for a new beginning crushed by his wounds, old and new. It seemed so strange to think that he was the man who had set out from this tent a few days ago. He had lost so much. He felt fresh tears on his cheeks. His hand found the trunk of the tree outside his door, the other hand over his eyes as he wept silently.

Finally Jacob's hand was soft on his shoulder, comforting him.

Sayid felt he had lost the ability to respond to anything, to anyone, even Jacob. How he wanted, needed so much to take Jacob into his embrace, into his bed, their bed... but he still felt so fragile, so unable to take, or give. Twice he had been undone by a tremendous violence done to his body and psyche in a most intimate way. He felt he would never heal. He would lose his Jacob's love. He would die. 

_Steady... steady... steady..._ he breathed deeply with the soldier's mantra calming inside. He reached again for the flap of the tent, stepping in, standing for a moment as Jacob waited, then holding the flap aside for him.

The tent smelled musty. They had placed their packs on the floor between them, and Sayid sat on the low bed, rolling up the flap over one of the net windows as Jacob settled into the little chair next to the door flap. Outside it began to rain, though the sun still shone where they were. As Sayid turned his face to the window, Jacob was treated to the stunning beauty of Sayid's deep brown eyes as they caught the light.

They sat listening to the rain patter on the tent and in the trees as Sayid felt his way to what was next. He felt a surge of love for Jacob, who was now taking his cue from Sayid in everything between them, and giving him complete control over their interactions. He had noticed that Jacob continued to be very careful about how he touched Sayid, ready at any time to withdraw if Sayid seemed alarmed or uncomfortable.

 _I will not push myself,_ he thought, taking Jacob's lead. This helped him to relax into the questions, to not have to have an answer to his pain.

Sayid lay back on his little bed, looking out at the dripping trees near his tent, enjoying the presence of Jacob without the need to talk. He felt safe in his tent, so familiar and private. The camp was his home, and he had enjoyed many successes and pleasures here, many with the other survivors who loved and looked after him, as he looked after them. This feeling of safety seemed to click into place at last, and Sayid turned his head to smile at Jacob, who lifted his eyes to return Sayid's gaze.

After a time, Sayid felt ready to try. He looked at Jacob, who remained completely relaxed, smiling his little enigmatic smile. _Like the Mona Lisa_ , Sayid though, laughing to himself, feeling a little smile playing upon his own face.

Lifting his arm, he scooted over a little, grimacing slightly with pain. Jacob waited for a moment, then stayed low as he came over to the bunk, where Sayid welcomed him onto his place on the bed beside him, and they rolled together gently as they found their way back to each other physically.

They lay face to face then, creating the little world of intimacy between them with the warmth of moist breath shared and the magical language of touch combined with changes in their breathing as they caressed one another lightly, feeling very close in spirit once again.

Jacob lifted his hand to Sayid's face, and Sayid closed his eyes as Jacob's gentle hand glided over his cheek and ear and into his hair, pushing the heavy curls back a little from his face, carefully tracing his injuries, lightly petting him over and over, relaxing him. Sayid was willing at last to do nothing but accept Jacob's affection and simple pleasuring. He felt as though he had reached a deep place of openness to Jacob that was ecstatic in a very calm and steady way, a continuous pleasure that he seemed to be soaking in, gentle and insistent as the healing rain. _What are you, Jacob?_ he thought, feeling trust returning a little more each moment.

Sayid felt some places deep inside coming back together, torn apart by shock and pain, mixing again as the essence of him. _He can heal me_ , he thought. _I will be healed._

Eventually Jacob's hand stilled and they lay together with their foreheads touching, enjoying the clean comfort and intimacy of Sayid's bed and his tent, and the quiet of the camp in the rain.

 _We are still new lovers,_ Sayid thought, his eyes closed, a promise of ecstatic pleasure enough to roll through him in subtle, yet distinct waves, pulling him under with an exquisite and effortless focusing of his mind. He could not remember ever feeling so much pleasure from togetherness, or staying so close around someone while falling in love.

Without deciding to do it, Sayid put his hand behind Jacob's head, and Jacob opened his eyes as Sayid pulled him gently to him, their lips meeting, sweet and salty his lover's taste, soft lips, teeth like treasures, his tongue a delicious delicacy.

Sayid stopped. His mouth stung with salt. His mind became clouded with pain. He closed his eyes as Jacob withdrew and averted his gaze. Sayid was not ready. He had decided he was, but he was not.

Sayid rolled back and dozed while Jacob watched over him, willing him to feel safe. Later Sayid awoke, ravenous, and remembered the gift of food from the camp, tasteless compared to Jacob's cooking, but welcomed in their hunger. Eating helped Sayid to feel normal again.

It was evening then. They went into the forest, then returned to their same spots on the bed. As they lay on Sayid's little bunk, pressed against each other in a perfect fit, Sayid let his mind wander, and began idly humming his soldier's song, playing with the zipper on the tent flap. The rain came and went, and the fragrance of it filled him, a so familiar scent that had followed him through all of his years. He felt some deeper places in him letting go at last as he slipped back into the widening boundaries of his full awareness, relaxing into what he was and what he knew.

Hours later, Sayid awoke, breathing in the scent of Jacob, wanting him, barely visible next to him in the darkness. He lay in the dark, then drifted back to sleep.

In the morning, Jacob retrieved a jug of water and new leaves of ample food at the door, and they relished a true feast after days with little food.

Jacob had taken his seat in the little chair by the door flap, and he seemed to be meditating with eyes closed and relaxed, with a long, straight back and even breathing. Sayid slept again, then found Jacob still this way when he awoke. Hours passed.

Finally, Sayid was laying on his back, tracing the familiar designs in the top of the tent with his mind. Without thinking to, he looked at Jacob, and found him watching him. Sayid sat up on one arm, moving over slightly. He slid his other arm around Jacob's shoulders as he came to lay beside Sayid, hugging him closely, loving him. He turned Jacob onto his back. He turned to close the flap over the little window, then gave himself to kissing Jacob, carefully, then rolling partly onto him, pressing against him as he tested himself, then offered himself to their embrace, to the one who loved him, who had sat beside him, waiting for Sayid to want him again.

Jacob closed his eyes, his face gentle and soft. Sayid kissed Jacob's face and hair, his lips and neck as he undid Jacob's shirt, slipping his hand into the smooth warmth underneath, pushing the worn fabric aside. He was moved to a long exhale as he brought his lips to Jacob's chest, white as chalcedony, lingering on his pale nipples and following the little trail of golden hair down to his stomach.

Jacob was very sensitive, and his stomach muscles jumped slightly, his breath changing audibly in the stillness. Sayid was thrilled, a heat rising through him that he communicated by focused, but unhurried activity as he opened Jacob's pants, sitting up to look down at Jacob. Feeling sure, he slowly pulled Jacob's pants off, sitting between his legs, running his hands upon Jacob's thighs and up his body, then back down to his thighs, looking down at him so beautiful in the semi-darkness, his shirt open and his hands soft at his hips, his head moving a little as he accepted Sayid's pleasuring.

 _He is so beautiful... like a god_ , Sayid thought, then moving back a little, he caressed the insides of Jacob's legs, his hands moving upward, his fingers sliding gently into that dark fold _below_ where his legs met, then back onto his thighs, checking himself again, looking around his tent at what was familiar and safe. _I am here, I am this_ , Sayid thought. _I can love again._

He moved his hands back to the crease of Jacob's legs, tenderly lifting his genitals slightly. Jacob moaned with pleasure.

 _I am safe now_ , Sayid thought. _We are safe now_ , he told himself, the boy inside, the oldest part of him. _Yes_.

Sayid leaned down and breathed a long hot breath upon Jacob's penis and testicles, enjoying their moist odor, then nuzzled his erect penis, licking it lightly. He licked the spot just below the glans, pressing it slightly with his tongue, then slipped the tip into his mouth, holding it there, sharing his moisture and warmth with a firm, unmoving pressure.

Jacob moaned a complaint at this teasing, but did not reach to Sayid, allowing him to slowly push down, then slowly up again, so slowly, Jacob needing to go faster, but Sayid not changing his speed, focusing instead on pressing his lips _around_ , a firm pressure that did not waver.

Jacob was slowly, surely coming undone from the inside, arching into Sayid, turning slightly, bound into place by a hypnotic pleasure, wanting all of Sayid, to curl around him, take him in, taste his essence, enter his place of secrets, find the places that waited for his discovery and touch alone.

Sayid answered his passion with his tongue, taking delight in swirling it around the shaft as he moved up and down upon it, keeping his lips tight as he pleasured Jacob as he wished to be pleasured, as Jacob would pleasure him when they were tender and close. For they were lovers.

Jacob became very still, his curved back strung in place like a bow as he arched tightly... then drifted so gently over the top of a great ascending wave of released pleasure, following it over and down into wave after wave of pleasure rolling through him, over him, on him, like waves on the shore.

 _Do not call out, do not call out_ , thought Jacob as he called out at his peak, then finished in silence, Sayid moving up to hold him, grasping him and so carefully finishing him with his hand, pressing against Jacob as he moved upon the bed, Sayid embracing and containing his beautiful dance of pleasure.

They were still at last, flung together by their ecstasy, a settling embrace of their bodies and minds as still as the hush of the rain, thinking of nothing, feeling their love grow. 

[ **CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: A sock on the door**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380452/)

They were laughing again, and Sayid was so happy to be laughing, to feel safe, to not be hurting, to feel at home in Jacob's arms again. He still felt fragile, but he also noticed how soft he felt, tender in a good way, which was baffling, baffling that it was so easy, and felt so good.

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	21. Sock on the door

Lovers dozed together for hours, listening to the rain come and go, enjoying the soft, clean bed. They attacked the remainder of the food, feeding each other, finding the food to be extra delicious. Licking their fingers, Jacob took Sayid's fingers into his mouth, a slow sensual moment of passion that flowed into hours, their afternoon quiet, their talk quiet, with spaces of no talking. "Pillow talk with a real pillow," Sayid had attempted his take on an English idiom, mangling the words somewhat with his accent, and Jacob imitated him, both of them suddenly laughing like boys, mocking each other with gentle but furtive grabbing and lurching, pretend loving, laughing and surprise in their eyes at how this too was a new kind of intimacy.

Sayid rose in spite of Jacob's loud protests, putting on his pants and slipping out to bring back water for bathing. He came back with the wet burlap bag he used for this, pouring the water into a basin outside the door, then bringing the basin in, smiling at the looks he had observed from those who were walking about the camp, all suddenly slowing to look his way.

Sayid placed the basin next to the bed, then playfully pushed Jacob back down, stirring the fresh water with a soft, worn cloth, then set about cleaning and bathing him. He was very thorough, putting his hand behind Jacob's neck to pull him up and gently cleanse his face, neck and ears, dipping again and again, turning and folding Jacob to wash his back. He enjoyed gently washing his genitals, still sensitive, blowing on them, knowing this made them tingle with pleasure. He found a new cloth, and pulling it dripping from the basin, pulled it over and through Jacob's hair, then scrubbed his hair wildly, enjoying making Jacob laugh. _Like a son_ , Sayid thought, feeling a paternal protectiveness that he reserved for those he most loved. He thought of Hurley, and smiled with affection.

Sayid lay Jacob back down again, with the direct confidence and persuasion of a man taught to lead and be led, smiling down at Jacob's fair body, so near in the dark tent. Taking another cloth, he slowly dried Jacob, enjoying his relaxed look of open pleasure as he enjoyed the sensual feeling of his body glowing and clean, and being rubbed lovingly.

Sayid then set about to bathe himself, turning to the basin and the task, his demeanor changing as he assumed the efficient, practiced movements of a soldier who was used to such arrangements.

It was clear that neither of them wished to go out from the tent, but were perhaps newlyweds, having found their way to each other, now putting each other at the center of their lives, and communicating this to each other without words, without ceremony, without the witness of others or the obligations of joined status.

“Hello,” said a familiar voice at the door. They looked at each other with frozen delight, then lapsed into barely contained laughter.

“Hello... Sayid?” Claire scratched on the canvas part of the makeshift tent.

“Hello Claire,” Sayid answered without moving.

“Hi Sayid... hi Jacob... I brought you some food.”

“Leave it by the door, Claire,” Sayid said. “You are very nice, and we thank you.”

“Thank you, Claire,” Jacob added.

“Most of us think it's okay, you know, for you two....” Claire trailed off, obviously wanting to communicate her happiness for them, but tripping over her words.

“We know, Claire,” Sayid answered. “Now please go away.”

They were laughing again, and Sayid was so happy to be laughing, to feel safe, to not be hurting, to feel at home in Jacob's arms again. He still felt fragile, but he also noticed how soft he felt, tender in a good way, which was baffling, baffling that it was so easy, and felt so good.

The pair had found the best way to share the tiny bed, and fought the need to get up, but Sayid finally crawled down and over the bottom of the bed, reaching out the door, feeling around for Claire's kind present. He pulled it in, and seeing one of his old socks in his cubby, he pulled it out and dropped it outside on the ground, right in front of the door flap.

They sat up, devouring the food with great bites and the noisy sounds of men focusing on food with no women nearby, suddenly very hungry, the food gone in minutes. When they lay back with sighs of happy contentment, finding their places again, they could hear people calling out to each other and the friendly sounds of conversation in the cooler air of evening.

At twilight they pulled on their pants and went into the trees, finding the latest designated area for men to visit, and walked a little ways into the thick jungle, enjoying the fresh air, cool on their shirtless bodies as they stretched and walked about a little, enjoying the outward change in focus after hours of intimate focus on each other.

“I will show you something,” Sayid said, quiet in the growing darkness.

[ **CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: Now we can be together** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380473/)

_If I harm the brother, I will lose him,_ Sayid thought, thinking of Jacob alone again, living without him because Sayid had chosen his anger over their love.

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	22. Now we can be together

They reached the little place between two trees, and Sayid slipped between them, turning to catch a hint of Jacob's silhouette in the fading light as he entered the hidden place surrounded by several trees, all with trunks and limbs grown into an almost joined circle.

It was completely dark, and with a moist, close silence. Sayid guided Jacob onto the raised place to sit, then sat next to him, leaning back to look up at the bright stars framed by the trees growing outward from each other, seeking the light.

Jacob could just catch the scent of the _neem_ flowers nearby, an intoxicating fragrance enhanced by the closeness of the little place of hiding, secret and mysterious.

Sayid's hands found Jacob's face and he pulled their lips together very gently, kissing so softly at first, then deeper and more insistent, then resting their foreheads together, they seemed to fall into one another in the darkness, no longer limited by their separate bodies.

They sat back at last, drifting on the heat of kissing, floating in the darkness, finding their own breath and thoughts, when Sayid felt it begin. He was flooded with the memories, which he had pushed away when they first entered his secret _mihrab_ , where he felt enclosed and embraced by an inner secret place that he could not name.

“Jacob,” he whispered, fear in his voice, and Jacob flinched, then turned to him, knowing the sound and the source.

Sayid fell into him, then suddenly pushed him away, onto the ground, then arching back, he dropped his head back against the tree to look up at the stars, fighting with himself without a sound for a time.

“Why did you not come to me, Jacob?” He said finally, his jaw tight as he fought his fear and pain, turning them into anger. He looked back down, feeling Jacob so near in the darkness.

_Here, always here, always now..._

Sayid wanted to speak the words that went with his weakness, his fear of the brother... _I fear him... I want to injure him, maim him._ But instead he listened, listened for what he wanted to believe, the words he needed so much to hear from Jacob. 

He needed to _know_...

“He will never hurt you again... he will never hurt you...” was Jacob's fierce promise.

 _If I harm the brother, I will lose him,_ Sayid thought, thinking of Jacob alone again, living without him because Sayid had chosen his anger over their love.

They were silent. Jacob finally spoke, his voice reaching out, wanting his words to somehow help. “Sayid, he will not come to you that way ever again, that will never happen to you again.”

“That is not enough,” Sayid said loudly. _It is enough_ , he thought, though he did not know why.

“Does he hurt you, Jacob?”

“No,” Jacob stated flatly. "He has played a certain role. He has been changed also."

“I cannot stay myself if he hurts you.” Sayid's anger was burning, burning down, slipping under, roaring through to the hurt and fear which had claimed him at last, after so many years of pretense and denial.

 _I am released because of this brother,_ he realized. _Somehow I know... it is true that he never hurts my Jacob._

“Why did you not come to me, Jacob?” Sayid quietly whispered with a broken sound, as though he did not expect an answer, and Jacob felt his heart breaking for Sayid, for what he endured alone as a boy. He knew that Sayid was lost in something almost greater than his entire life. He wanted so badly to reach out to Sayid, to caress and comfort him, but he did not touch him. _Mother_ , Jacob prayed to her, the sea... _I want to take this pain away,_ then: _I will not. I will not lose him._

“Sayid...” he said with great love.

“I am here,” Sayid finally answered.

 _Begin again..._ Jacob struggled inside for the words. 

“Do you want to be with me, Sayid?” Jacob challenged him a little, to find his words, to find a way through his feelings.

“You know that I do.” Sayid was at last allowing the pain, greater than it, holding it, his voice deeper, clear and sharp.

“If I came to you, if I pulled him off of you, threw myself on you, protected you...” Jacob's voice changed, “...you would still have a darkness inside of you. You would have to leave this place, leave me.” _How can I help him? What can I say?_ Jacob fought the thought, the possibility Sayid might not move on, and must leave, and they would not be one.

“Sayid, my love...” Jacob's voice broke, and he showed Sayid his own feelings at last, “I wanted to come to you... oh, how I wanted... Sayid... I had to hide, to close myself off from it. Choosing not to come to you is the hardest thing I have ever done.”

Jacob heard the emotions in his own voice, and opened to his own hurt, slipping down inside, past his self-control to his own strong feelings.

 _Understand, my love..._ Jacob prayed.

“I know that you were torn down, Sayid, torn apart. I have never known of such brutality. Only my brother can know what is required. He chose to test you in this extreme way, a way only he could accomplish. That is why there are two of us... brothers, so different,” he added, waiting for Sayid to decide to listen, to want to listen.

“You and I... Our love is great, Sayid,” Jacob began again, moving beyond explanations, his voice commanding, soft with feeling. “It is the greater part of the test. Without it, the test would mean nothing.”

_He will understand this._

Sayid felt something change in him, and looked up again at the small circle of night sky. _I can see the stars move,_ he thought, then, _My life is turning so quickly, I can see what I am made of, where I am going._

 _Our love is great..._ he heard Jacob's words in his mind. And somehow Jacob's voice had become more important to Sayid than anything else in this life. Jacob gave him something that was worth the price, the horror he had endured. _Perhaps_... No, he knew this. There was no question.

And so, he thought, upon the earth somehow spinning under distant stars. _I will._ Sayid chose Jacob again. He chose to face the horrors done to him, and horrors he did to others, to rise up to it all, taking it in, making it his. He chose love.

 _I accept this,_ he said inside, feeling his life touch the stars. Immediately he felt an incredible warmth and release rush through him, an impossible moment of almost total healing, taking all of his feelings, making them into a calm strength, beautiful and wild.

 _The Island...._ he thought, beginning to sense the centuries old power that was so vital and strong as _this_ _place._

“I accept this,” he said aloud, not sure of the words, or even the question, only of loving Jacob, who reached out to him at last, grasping his arm so lightly, sitting below him in the darkness.

Jacob had heard Sayid's quick inhalation, then his soft words of acceptance, and was flooded with relief, his feelings and fear for Sayid now answered, knowing Sayid's pain would now heal, and they could move on. _Once again,_ he thought. _Sayid, my true brother, my love._

Sayid reached out, finding and gently grasping Jacob's hands, pulling him up to him.

“I am sorry, my love... how I love you...” Sayid spoke very softly at Jacob's ear, encircling him with his arms. There was a delicious moment of silence between them as Jacob's heart leaped at these words, the first time he had heard them from Sayid's lips.

“I know that you love me,” Jacob answered as the two men grasped each other tightly, so grateful for the kindness of loving.

“I am here, Jacob,” Sayid said, kissing Jacob's forehead, stroking his hair, comprehending at last the pain Jacob had endured for him by staying away.

“I am here, Sayid,” Jacob promised, his voice warm with a hard-won contentment. He stepped back slightly, his hands on Sayid's shoulders.

 _How delicious it is..._ Jacob thought _...to smile alone in the darkness so close to you._ He felt the satisfaction of success, of doing what he was made to do, what the mother had chosen him for, and the island had mastered in him.

“We have passed the test,” he said, their hands joined in affection. 

_What does he mean?_ thought Sayid, and though he waited, Jacob did not explain.

“Now we can be together,” Jacob said simply.

Later, they made love on the little bunk, sharing sweat and passion, a dance of love that pushed them further, giving more, taking more from each other, burning away the edges of what was left between them, a dance as a mirror of each other, rising and falling together on their shared passion, again and again.

In the middle of the night, Sayid drifted up from sleep, realizing that Jacob was also awake, and touching each other with love, interlacing their fingers, they nestled tight against each other, communicating the same quiet promise, joining their hearts with the silent vows that made them one.

[ **CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: A wedding gift** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380500/)

Hurley appeared, moving quickly towards them, starting to talk before he had quite arrived. “Okay, Sayid,” he said, excited. “Some of us have made you something, it's kind of a wedding present.”

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	23. A wedding gift

“Hello Kate...” Sayid said with a smile. “Hello, Sayid,” she answered, smiling broadly. Sayid was stretching and blinking in the bright sun after spending the two days honeymooning in his tent. Kate laughed, and Sayid enjoyed her obvious affection.

“Hello Jack... I would like to speak with you.” _Why is she laughing,_ Sayid thought, laughing a little himself. _Of course, I know why..._

“Of course,” Jack smiled at Kate, turning to walk with Sayid down the beach. Sayid looked different, open and soft in a way very different than his usual serious, methodical approach to each situation.

“It is good to see you again,” Jack teased just a little, enjoying it immensely that somber Sayid's eyes sparkled, that serious Sayid gave Jack _a look._

“Jack, I am going to live with Jacob. I would like to keep my tent... to have two homes.”

“Well, I could see this coming,” Jack said, still smiling, though he had a more serious tone. “We will miss you here when you are away.”

“I will be at the beach of the sentinel,” Sayid confided. “This is not secret, but I would prefer if you didn't announce the location of our home. Perhaps you could mention the long beach as our home, the one on this side of the sentinel?”

“Not a problem,” Jack said. “How shall I contact you if I need you?”

“The very small beach behind the sentinel, a hidden cave up the steep rocks. Please come any time if you should need me. Leave word if we are not there.”

“I will,” Jack was relieved to know where Sayid was going.

“Good.” Sayid looked around. “I am happy to keep my place here, to do my part. Just let me know.”

“It's a deal,” Jack said in his usual upbeat manner, clasping Sayid's shoulder, then turning with him to walk back into camp.

Hurley appeared, moving quickly towards them, starting to talk before he had quite arrived. “Okay, Sayid,” he said, excited. “Some of us have made you something, it's kind of a wedding present.”

Sayid was delighted, watching Hurley working his magic, always a joy when he was enjoying himself, which was most of the time.

Hurley took Sayid's hand and dragged him up the beach. “I'm coming,” Sayid protested, but Hurley did not let go.

Hurley led him up, away from the beach, into the center of camp. Several of the survivors were standing together, and smiled broadly when Sayid appeared. Claire was holding something, and she offered it to Sayid.

“It's a blanket, sort of a quilt we made for you, and for Jacob,” she said, proud and happy.

Sayid was moved, and took the quilt, soft and clean, a montage of fabrics sewn together with obvious care and love, enclosing more precious cloth as a lining. In one corner, someone had made a heart of deep red fabric.

Sayid looked around at everyone's happy faces, accepting their love. “Thank you,” he said, feeling blessed and happy. “Thank you so much.”

“Please tell Jacob we made it for him too,” Claire instructed.

“I will,” Sayid said. “I certainly will.”

[ **CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: Now I understand** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380527/)

Jacob was looking out over the sea, his hand on Sayid's knee. He turned to Sayid with admiration in his eyes. “Do not think of him, Sayid. You cannot see him again until you separate him from what happened." They sat against each other, feeling the warmth of love shared where their arms touched, each remembering a time of being changed by love.

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	24. Now I understand

“Sayid, my love, I wish to stop for a moment before we continue home,” Jacob said as they were well away from the camp, and had relaxed into a feeling of purpose and companionship, enjoying movement and a change in their surroundings. Sayid felt his full strength returning with every step at Jacob's side, each step closer to Jacob's home and their bed. How would it seem to him now?

They had reached the top of the next ridge, and stopped to view this part of the large island surrounded by the ocean so pleasingly round and exact, fully resting under the air in a huge semi-circle spanning the long expanse of horizon.

“Tell me,” Sayid finally said, using their favorite challenge for conversation serious and funny, enjoyed often as a private joke, a sort of _now what...?!?_

“I will show you, if you will trust me.”

“Oh. Now what?” Sayid complained in jest, and Jacob laughed.

They climbed to a little rocky outcropping, shaded, where they dropped their packs, pulling out their water bottles as they sat next to each other, men accomplishing travel, wiping sweat, drinking with pleasure away from the hot sun.

“Jacob...”

“Yes, my love.”

“Will you please tell me, where..." Sayid's voice was suddenly low, "....where is he?” Jacob had as yet refused to answer, and this confused Sayid. “At least tell me why you will not answer me,” Sayid demanded gently.

Jacob was looking out over the sea, his hand on Sayid's knee. He turned to Sayid with admiration in his eyes. “Do not think of him, Sayid. You cannot see him again until you separate him from what happened." They sat against each other, feeling the warmth of love shared where their arms touched, each remembering a time of being changed by love.

When they stood again, Jacob put his hand on Sayid's shoulder and squeezed it, finding the words. "You will understand what my brother gave and what he endured, Sayid. But focusing on this now will distract you with things that have already been accomplished. We have new things to accomplish together.” Jacob was pleased with Sayid's eager gaze, taking it in with a look of admiration and pride. " _He is always ready, always prepared_ , Jacob thought. _Always_.

“Tell me,” Sayid insisted, waiting, hoping that Jacob would answer another question, for often he did not answer even one.

Silence. Sayid waited.

 _Now_.... Jacob thought.

Jacob turned his head, giving his eyes fully to Sayid, and for a single moment Sayid saw him, not as a man, but as a glowing creature of light and liquid movement, constellations spinning apart in a great expanse of endless space... a presence framed by a tiny door, opening, made from Jacob's perfect white teeth, a sacred temple that opened and took Sayid in, warm and close in a darkly liquid, sparkling cave, swallowing him, soaking him with love, pouring through him as the endless tides of time, pouring him, with him to their source.

And Sayid was lost, falling, falling into Jacob's eyes now, saying _yes,_ accepting passage into a new, ancient world, ferried upon his lover's heart, captivated as everything around him sparkled a timeless, yet personal welcome. Everything.

 _So... so... so... beautiful,_ he thought... as he looked around at the light, rising fast on the feelings that had opened in him, currents of ether rushing past him, through him, as though he was lifting off from all that was known, taking flight.

 _I have always wanted this... exactly this..._ he sang inside as he let himself be changed by a single, profound moment.

There was a strange vibration, a flutter that seemed to come from a place that opened next to his ear, bringing him back, and then it was as before. He was sitting next to Jacob, surrounded by the scents and sounds of the living jungle, looking into his lover's kind, ancient eyes.

On he sailed upon the unbounded sea in Jacob's eyes, still freely offered to him, filled with pure love and bliss.

So slowly sound was coming back to him then. "Now I understand,” Sayid said at last, strange words that he had waited a lifetime to speak, though they were only the beginning. “My Jacob... your brother has offered me to you, has given me to you. He did all of this for you.”

“Yes, my love," Jacob said, always riding an unseen wave of purest bliss, a place Sayid could now touch in him, and inside of himself... _this world inside..._ where Jacob's voice was the reason for his longing _._ “Only my brother could know this, how to make you mine, my love. He is free, now. He has served the Island in this way. When he comes to you now, you will have already understood. He will come. He will seek us.”

Sayid was silent, still unsure. _I am not ready..._ he thought, not wanting such a reunion, though he no longer feared it.

He would never be overcome again.

[ **CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: I will** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380542/)

Jacob reached to Sayid, his eyes sparkling with fun and play. _How delightful it is to share love, to be love... every time anew,_ he thought as he placed his hand over Sayid's eyes for a long moment, then lifted it away.

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	25. I will

# BOOK TWO: Jacob

Sayid had remained captive, still held by Jacob's blue, blue eyes, and the love he found there, an endless, emanating presence made of bliss.

 _The god is mine..._ he thought, as he slipped out of his mind, suddenly very small, tossed on the currents of a moment greater than all that had come before it, his life.

Finally, Jacob turned his head slightly, looking out to sea.

Sayid looked around at a completely new and strange place, somehow unconcerned, but also thrilled. _Is this the same island?_ He thought.

They were now at a seemingly unattainable height, able to see the great sweep of island and the water surrounding it to the great circle of the horizon, the island a curving white band of beach notched with occasional ridges, the low, dark arms of the island reaching into the sea, and with the sharp, curved and sweeping border between sea and sky beyond. The sky with its impossible shade of blue, clouds and clouds like many ships sailing upon finely shaped currents of air, a vast flotilla somehow sailing well above the water, appearing almost below them here.

Sayid was silent, becoming something new, his thoughts beyond words, beyond sound and comprehension.

When Sayid felt that words would not take away... he felt the great space between the two men become small and intimate once more, so that he felt his mind settle upon the newly defined channels of his being.

_I have always wanted this... exactly this..._

Sayid felt that every moment of his life had arrived at the same time, many threads woven into an undulating curtain between two worlds, a grand design for a simple task: play the part of one among many, the reality hidden, only one.... one without second, God as himself, partaking of the play as Sayid.

“Jacob...” Sayid said, his own voice sounding strange to him, profoundly relaxed.

“My love,” Jacob answered.

Sayid was still unsure how to begin the task of speaking again, and set himself about choosing a random place to begin.

“Our island, yes...” Jacob began for him, answering one question of many. “This is the peak at northwest, it holds my treasures. It guards my true home. I am bringing you to my home, Sayid, if you will come with me.”

“I will,” Sayid said without hesitation, a flowing feeling inside, his love for Jacob moving in him like endless waves, finding him, heavy liquid movement, unmistakeable and purely satisfying, quenching the seeking, quenching the source of seeking, desire.

Jacob reached to Sayid, his eyes sparkling with fun and play. _How delightful it is to share love, to be love... every time anew,_ he thought as he placed his hand over Sayid's eyes for a long moment, then lifted it away.

Sayid felt the difference before he saw it, the cool of shade and the smell of fresh water, mossy and sweet.

They sat beside a beautiful stream, large, flowing to the sea, the beach and the sea a presence framed by the thick jungle growth here. Sayid somehow touched the water in his mind, and it filled him in an instant, light and sweet as fresh honey.

“This is my home,” Jacob said, his joy overflowing to see his love in this special place. “I am wealthy beyond any measure," he spoke the words that shared his love of home with Sayid. 

[ **CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: Like me** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380560/)

Jacob closed his eyes for this moment, feeling the ache in his heart from years of loneliness, so that he cried a little, one little sob from the old pain, borne for many years. “I offer what has been given,” he said to the water, and so, to the sea.


	26. Like me

Jacob looked up into the thick jungle. He seemed to have come alive, seeing everything anew through Sayid's eyes as he looked around at his little Eden.

“This stream comes from a hidden place...” he said, turning back to Sayid, “that only my brother and I can see... unless you are like me.”

 _What does he mean... like me?_ Sayid thought, waiting for Jacob to continue.

“Let's enjoy the cool water,” Jacob suggested, standing, stretching as he pulled his shirt over his head, untying and slipping out of his pants. Sayid saw all of Jacob as if for the first time. He stood transfixed as Jacob removed the small leather bag he wore on a leather cord, placing it on top of his clothes.

Jacob turned to watch Sayid, enchanted as Sayid seemed to come back from a dream, then leisurely slipped out of his sandals, his shirt flowing off of his shoulders and arms, his pants slipping down over his slim hips as he stepped up and out of them, his mass of curls swinging and bouncing as he moved.

Jacob turned, and stood beside the stream for a minute, his eyes closed, his lips moving with no sound. He opened his eyes and stepped into the clear water flowing gently under the dark green of the trees, the surface dark and silky, so that the water seemed to be folding on itself like glass.

Sayid was still floating inside, each breath a beginning, each moment a ripple in an endless pool of liquid pleasure. Jacob reached for Sayid's hand, leading him lovingly into the water, a place where the stream fell over a large rock into a small pool before flowing away to his mother, the sea. Jacob sat upon the rock, to the side a little, so the water rushed past him, flowing over his leg into the little pool, still holding Sayid's hand, supporting him as he stepped into the middle of the pool, then guiding him down into it.

He carefully laid Sayid into the water, his hands under his arms, then holding Sayid's head on his chest as he settled down into the water. Sayid was submerged in the cool water up to his shoulders, and sighed as the current played on his skin, flowing about his genitals, soothing his tired feet. Jacob tilted Sayid's head back, one hand under his head, carefully dipping his uncurling hair into the water, letting it soak there for a moment, floating like a mass of dark seaweed in the clear water. Then he grasped Sayid's hair behind his head, holding him with it.

Jacob moved very slowly, gently touching, then holding Sayid's nose, he then carefully dipped Sayid's face into the water, letting Sayid rest there for a moment, completely submerged. Sayid felt his world shrink with a sensual _whoosh_ as the water went over his ears, and he could hear the delightful splunking sounds of the water gently plunging and dancing to them and away.

Jacob closed his eyes for this moment, feeling the ache in his heart from years of loneliness, so that he cried a little, one little sob from the old pain, borne for many years. “I offer what has been given,” he said to the water, and so, to the sea.

He lifted Sayid's head, waiting as the water trickled off of Sayid's face, smiling down upon him as Sayid slowly opened his eyes, his ears above water once more. Sayid blinked up at him, accepting his love, feeling it opening him, filling him, softening him, so that he relaxed into his lover, laying his head on his lap and arm, then letting it fall to the side as he drifted again on the unseen current.

Jacob caressed him, pulling against him, the water flowing over them, watching so beautiful their bodies moving against each other, deep brown and creamy white in the clear, flowing water.

“I love you, Sayid,” he said. He did not allow Sayid to move or turn. “Let me hold you...” he said quietly, and Sayid relaxed again, feeling the all over tingle from the cool water, closing his eyes and floating on the current, Jacob's hands steady under his arms.

Jacob played on the current with Sayid's body, lifting him, feeling the flow under him before he let him down slightly and he sank just enough, so that the water flowed over him again. He did this over and over, varying slightly, until Sayid was completely relaxed, given over to him entirely, and perfectly content in himself, deep inside.

After a time, Jacob slipped under him, finding the little rocks at the end of the pool, bracing his feet there as he let his own head fall back, feeling the cool water on his hair. He let his face dip lightly in and out of the water as he lifted Sayid on the current, onto his own body, loving him with his whole body, slipping against him, floating under, then raising again to slide and curve into him, undulating with a subtle passion, communicating his love in this way as Sayid was claimed by the source of the water.

They gave themselves to each other, floating, floating together, Jacob's hands still under Sayid's arms, his legs under him, holding him up as they lay together for a time.

When Jacob very gently made the tiniest beginning of sitting up, still holding Sayid as he moved very slowly, he let Sayid move first as they folded into themselves, sitting for a time, then water running off of their bodies as they stood, the air distinctly warm and delicious against their wet and cold skin.

Sayid turned to Jacob, who was also turning, lifting their eyes to the place where the stream came down from the forest. Sayid put his arms around Jacob's broad shoulders, stretching against him, resting his body against his back, resting his forehead against his neck and shoulders. He heard Jacob whispering, and enjoyed his sense of wonder at loving a man who was so much more, mysterious and forever kind.

They stepped out of the water, and standing on the soft soil next to the stream, they put their foreheads together, eyes closed, still drifting, listening to each other breathe, their arms around each other.

At last they turned towards the sea, taking up their clothes and walking towards the beach, clothed in bliss, naked in the sudden sunlight.

[ CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN: Welcome at last ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380593/)

Jacob whispered, and Sayid watched as the entire beach became translucent, with another world showing through, all of it fluttering like the finest silk in a slight breeze.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	27. Welcome at last

Two men emerged from the trees into the sandy dunes between beach and forest, dunes that protected the forest from the salty sea. They were unclothed, and appeared very different from each other, one with pale white skin and blonde hair, the other with golden brown skin and black hair. Both were of slight build, with finely made bodies muscular and strong with the health of middle-age.

The day was mild, with a little breeze off of the sea, and with the gentle sunlight so slightly blurred a translucent white by the humid air.

Sayid breathed deep, enjoying how the island climate suited his body. Moving between the inland pockets of sleepy, sun-warmed air and the crisp sea breeze of the beaches gave him a feeling of relaxing into what was best for his body, the best combination of baking warmth and pervasive, ever moving moisture.

He shook his hair, now pulling upwards into a massive pile of curls as it began to dry. His hair was never fully dry here, and so was exceptionally curly all of the time, except when it was in water.

Jacob also breathed deep, blissful, happy to be home, squinting as he glanced occasionally at Sayid, ecstatic to be bringing his beloved Sayid to his home at last.

Sayid followed Jacob through the dunes and out onto a little crescent beach at the back of a little cove with arms of rock coming up from the sea, embracing the beach. The breeze was a little stronger here, sounding in the nearby trees with a magical, undulating whisper.

Jacob stood looking towards the sea, feeling that Sayid had turned to him, watching him closely.

 _He is about to...?_ Sayid thought, not knowing what.

Jacob whispered, and Sayid watched as the entire beach became translucent, with another world showing through, all of it fluttering like the finest silk in a slight breeze.

Sayid was still floating in a mystical state. He looked through to this other world, and saw an island from above, intrigued by its physical size and pattern on the sea.

As he turned his eyes back to Jacob, eyes wide, he felt himself questioning again his perception of him, curious in his heightened state of hope and grace. Jacob appeared no different, but as he looked into Sayid's eyes with his own bluest blue, he seemed to show Sayid the passing of time there, so that he saw ages passing away in eyes.

 _What are you..?_ Sayid's mind could only make these few words.

Jacob lifted his hand to Sayid's face, caressing his cheek. He turned to look out to sea, and Sayid also turned. The island image was gone.

“Come,” he said, taking Sayid's hand protectively, walking lightly on the sand towards the other side of the cove, stopping at the wall of steep rocks there.

Jacob motioned with his hand, and an archway appeared in the rock, a passage into the trees visible just beyond. Still holding Sayid's hand, they walked through and onto this path, still carrying their clothes, the rocks to their left became a low ridge like a wall, reaching over them against the blue sky. At the end of the little trail, with trees overarching and sprinkling the path with filtered sunlight, there opened a little clearing with the rock face carved into a large square portal, with a few steps leading up to an archway supported by four stone columns, two on each side.

 _Like Petra_ , Sayid thought, overcome with wonder, though this facade looked very different from the rosy sandstone of the ancient desert fortress.

Made from the black, igneous rock of the island, the simple shape of the facade was that of classic Greece, but not smooth, instead rippled in the shape of many parallel indentations and tiny holes, the nature of lava which has become rock.

The dark entrance was slightly rounded, a large lava tube which had somehow been worn over time, hollowed and smoothed, giving the _darshan_ of living rock. 

As they approached the steps, Sayid felt himself settle into himself, something new, the delicious floating feeling one with the air's caress, his feet warm on the soil as they walked, as he listened to the birds in the gentle sunlight. They stopped at the steps, and Jacob was smiling so warmly, he was so full of emotion as he spoke.

“Welcome, Sayid. Welcome at last to my home.”

[ **CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: Home** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380611/)

Jacob was smiling, enjoying the special wonder of enjoying intimacy with a being much younger than he. Turning on the bed, he opened the covers, moving to make room for Sayid. "Come into my bed, beloved," Jacob said with great feeling, embracing Sayid with the covers and his arms as they settled together into the center of Jacob's universe, his home and his bed.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	28. Home

Jacob walked up and into the dark entry, stopping to light an old style oil lamp, low, with a round handle, then lit two others from it, still sitting on their little table against the wall. He carried one of the lamps the full length of a great room, placing it before a large _murti_ of Lord Shiva, _pranaming_ to God in the act of creation, Jacob's forehead touching the floor for several moments before he came to his feet again and stepped back, hand at his heart.

Taking one of the other lamps, Sayid walked towards him, looking upward with amazement. _Like a temple_... he thought as he looked around at the high ceiling and the rough walls.

A large room with a tall, arched ceiling was held up by two evenly spaced columns, from which were cast a rippling play of sharp shadows on the wall and ceiling in the dancing light of the lamps. Jacob walked to him, holding his lamp up so that it shined with Sayid's lamp on the walls, hung with panel after panel of beautiful Tibetan _thangkas_ , colorful images of the Buddhas painted onto silk. There were also the beautiful _murtis_ of Indian gods, with silk scarfs arranged upon them and at their feet; the large, intricate Shiva Nataraj in brass, and on each side a white stone _murti_ of Lord Krishna and his brother Balaram, and of the mother of righteousness, Durga Ma upon her lion.

“These are my companions,” Jacob said with warmth and feeling, speaking of living beings. Sayid was enchanted by Jacob's happy warmth and boyish excitement. “Come, there is more...” Jacob was moving with purpose, taking up his clothes and smiling at Sayid, continuing towards the far corner and the little archway framed in a very faint, warm light, dark and mysterious.

Jacob allowed Sayid to go first. As they approached, Sayid could see that there were two archways, at right angles, thick stone arches that were small enough to touch with one's head. These arches both opened into the same, “L” shaped room beyond, with high, tiny square windows letting in a little of the sunlight from outside. As they walked through the archway, Sayid could feel a very slight breeze moving over his naked body, flowing into the temple room, continuing out of the front entrance, making their lamp lights dance together as they walked through.

Jacob stood in the middle of the room, watching and enjoying Sayid's surprise and awe as he turned slowly, enchanted by the spacious room. The floor was polished stone, and the walls were rough hewn, hung with old tapestries in browns and greens, pinks and cream. A large bed piled with dark bedding and pillows overflowing onto a beautiful Persian rug in pink and pink-red, with dark green, a garden of paisley flowers and stylized birds facing the symbols for the hanging lamp and _mihrab_. The room had the calming aroma of sandalwood, which Sayid guessed to come from several simple items of furniture which appeared to be crafted from the fragrant wood. There was a desk with books and writing materials, and bookshelves filled and spilling over with books.

In one corner of the room lit by the light from the high windows there stood a large loom, taller than Sayid, with a good portion of course fabric woven in strange designs. Nearby stood a spinning wheel, next to a small stool surrounded by the pieces and forms of fishing baskets and fishing nets, with materials for making thread and the rough twine, and finished thread and twine wound upon makeshift spools.

Jacob took Sayid's clothes and placed them with his own clothes on a low chest. He watched with pleasure as Sayid walked around the room, examining Jacob's possessions in the light of his lamp and the sunlight from the little windows, which he could see at the top of one wall.

Sayid was drawn to the books, and what they might reveal about his enigmatic lover. They were of different time periods, loosely grouped. Holding the lamp close, he saw Flannery O'Connor and Joan Didion, Ursula K. Leguin and Sherri Tepper. Victor Hugo, Dickens, and Proust. Henry Miller, Henry James. Edith Wharton, Bronte, and Colette. Here was Plato, Dante, Virgil and Kant, The Confessions of St. Augustine, Johannes Kepler and Arthur Koestler. Tennyson, Wadsworth and an elaborately bound Coleridge. He recognized old titles in Arabic, wondering if they might be from the Moorish renaissance during the Middle Ages. On a separate shelf lined with silk, there was an elegantly bound Mahabarata and Bhagavad Gita with Shiva Sutras, Spandakarikas and Pratyabhijnahrdayam. Next to the bookshelf there was a low map cabinet on which rested a large picture book of the works of Albrecht Durer, and other picture books underneath it.

As he continued around the room, Sayid noticed an Arab-English dictionary and a Quran partially covered by an ornate silk cloth on the desk, which was covered by loose piles of paper, some with drawings and some with hand written text. _I will let him show me..._ he thought, not shining his lamp there.

Next to the bed there was a large, low cabinet with more books, Barbara Kingsolver, Gore Vidal, Shivastotravali and a well-worn Conan Doyle. Under a large hurricane style lamp, reading glasses, a rough bound book that Sayid guessed was a journal, and a deep blue purse made of silk, its contents a mystery. There were also two flutes finely made of wood, one larger and more ornate than the other, with silk cords attached.

Jacob had placed his lamp on this table, and Sayid placed his near it.

Sayid turned back to Jacob, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Sayid learn about him from his home and possessions.

"Tell me, my love, what is this place?” Sayid asked quietly, his voice that of someone completely given to wonder, knowing Jacob would not answer.

Jacob was smiling, enjoying the special wonder of enjoying intimacy with a being much younger than he. Turning on the bed, he opened the covers, moving to make room for Sayid.

"Come into my bed, beloved," Jacob said with great feeling, embracing Sayid with the covers and his arms as they settled together into the center of Jacob's universe, his home and his bed.

[ **CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE: Beginning** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380653/)

Jacob felt himself slipping under all that was Sayid as his new lover bent so slowly to kiss him, slowly, so slowly, deliberate and kind, asserting his presence in Jacob's home and his life, slipping into his place beside him, Island made.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	29. Beginning

Jacob felt something grand finishing, something grand beginning as he sat on the bed, watching Sayid move about his room, learning about Jacob from each item and its place with other personal and intriguing possessions.

A calm elation enveloped Jacob as his dream took form before him, the reality of that which he had longed for all these years, long before the survivors first came to the Island. 

_I have brought Sayid Jarrah to my home, to my bed, to be mine at last..._

He admired Sayid's cocoa brown body in the shifting lamplight, his face dark beneath his tumble of curls. _My Krishna_ , he thought, for Krishna means _beautiful dark one_ in Sanskrit.

_He is here... Beautiful Sayid, in my home._

Sayid had walked around the entire room, finally lingering at the bedside table, with its little treasures gathered around books and lamps. He noticed the very small pouch Jacob often wore around his neck, tied with a circle of finely spun cord, the pouch itself rough and obviously handmade. Jacob saw his eyes linger on this special item, but he said nothing when Sayid brought his eyes to his, Jacob's face unchanging as he kept his eyes on Sayid.

 _Come down to me_... Jacob thought as he opened the bed to Sayid, welcoming him with his eyes, making room for him, rolling them up together in the center of the large, luxurious bed, smelling slightly of moss. He wrapped Sayid in his arms with great affection, squeezing him, rubbing him, rocking with him. He put his face against Sayid and felt tears start in his eyes as he relaxed into a happiness that enveloped his loneliness, dissolving the insistent ache, filling the empty places with a new beginning.

After awhile, he rolled onto his back, finding that he was singing in his mind the words to a very old, boyhood song of bravado and success, smiling.

Sayid turned and curled up on Jacob, looking up at him, still partaking of his mood.

Jacob reached up to lift Sayid's hair off of his face, who smiled as Jacob played idly with his locks.

"My love," Sayid said.

"I am here," Jacob said. _We are just beginning..._

Jacob felt himself slipping under all that was Sayid as his new lover bent so slowly to kiss him, slowly, so slowly, deliberate and kind, asserting his presence in Jacob's home and his life, slipping into his place beside him, Island made.

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY: Worship me** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380683/)

Jacob waited, as though he was not on fire for Sayid, wanting to bring him up to him, kiss him with all of this passion, to fall with him onto the bed. _Not yet..._

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	30. Worship me

Sayid found himself loosely arranged on the dark bedding, and felt that his eyes were down without deciding to lower them. He felt that he had withdrawn himself, waiting, his inner focus entirely on Jacob, wanting to be only what Jacob desired, to shed every other care or feeling for a time, to be pure and to serve him with love. He sat on the edge of the bed, and waited.

Jacob had returned from stepping outside, and noticed Sayid's eyes and his posture of submission, and it stirred in him the perfect desire to serve Sayid by taking him, by defining the essential in him, insisting on the actions that allowed Sayid to react, to be free of initiating, correcting or attaining anything at all, except pleasing Jacob.

 _He is in control all of the time_ , Jacob thought. _I want to know him... when he steps back._

"My Sayid..." Jacob said, a statement. Sayid wanted him to say it again, and again.

"Yes," Sayid answered, without raising his eyes. _I will give him control of me..._ His arousal increased as he gave himself to these feelings.

 _I feel it deeply that I should first worship him..._ Jacob mused as he readily accepted Sayid's worship and surrender.

Jacob reached and gently took Sayid's arm, testing his surrender lightly, then very slowly pulling him from the bed, Sayid falling gently onto the rug, his caramel body beautiful against the rich cream and rose tones of the Persian design, just visible in the darkness.

Sayid knelt and then bowed at Jacob's feet, placing his face on the floor, just as Jacob knew he would, knowing Sayid would find this pleasurable. Jacob said nothing, sinking into the feeling of delicious focus that he gave to Sayid in return for his submission.

"Worship me," Jacob said quietly, firmly, his voice absolutely thrilling to Sayid, who craved this intimate revelation of Jacob's honest desire. 

Sayid put his forehead on Jacob's feet, then kissed and worshiped them with his lips, his face, and his hair. He nuzzled around the edges of Jacob's feet, making love to them with his lips, his nose and forehead, rubbing them with his long locks. He placed his face on Jacob's feet and sat in this way, kneeling to his lover's feet, worshiping him.

"That is good, and pleasing," Jacob said with the same quiet, deliberate tones. Again he enjoyed Sayid simply giving to him, without any movement at all. Jacob was overcome by how beautiful he found Sayid's body as he knelt at his feet, needing him, giving to him.

Sayid was floating in a place that felt so very alive, with very little thought, so that he felt himself lost in waves of sensuous pleasure, his head moving slightly, then falling to one side, losing contact with one of Jacob's feet.

Jacob smiled, pleased to be bringing his beloved so much pleasure that he had overcome Sayid's focus on him. He felt the growing fire rising through him that went with the freedom to say and to do as he pleased, as long as it also pleased Sayid.

"Worship me," he demanded quietly, gently pushing Sayid over with his foot. 

Sayid was obviously distressed by his failure, and righted himself, worshiping Jacob's feet with ardent desire _...like no feet have been worshiped before or since,_ thought Jacob, silently laughing as he thought of this modern idiom, enjoying himself immensely. Then he gently, insistently pushed Sayid over again with his foot.

"Worship me," he demanded, his voice low, and Sayid returned to grasp his ankles, his legs, slowly kissing and rubbing his face on Sayid's legs and feet, his beloved, wanting so much to please him. 

"I like _this_ , Sayid," Jacob stated firmly, pushing Sayid's face hard onto one foot with the other foot, holding it there, then standing fully again, looking down at Sayid's body seeming slightly undone by his pleasure, obviously filled with intense sensation and desire. He noticed the subtle moment when Sayid abandoned his own pleasure, distressed to hear his lover criticize his loving. Sayid did not move, pushing his face into Jacob's feet, loving them fervently. He slipped his hands around Jacob's ankles and caressed them with a strong and loving apology.

Jacob moved casually, taking a step back from Sayid and watching him need him, tormented by this denial.

 _"Tell me,"_ Jacob commanded, finding a new use for their favorite words, culled from their delightful private language.

Sayid fought within to put his hidden desires into words, struggling with a natural shyness in matters of the heart.

"Jacob..." he began, then his voice became more serious, "... _my conqueror_..." Then he laughed, embarrassed. 

_Oh God yes,_ Jacobfelt Sayid's words run through him as a rush of pleasure. _More of that..._ he thought, wanting more from Sayid.

"Stop laughing," Jacob demanded with a flat voice sourced from venom, stepping forward to push Sayid over with his foot, watching his lover as he struggled with his inhibitions, _inside_.

Sayid felt his body and mind burning upward through him, incinerating his inhibitions, so that his need to please Jacob could not wait, could not be denied. He sat up to crawl to Jacob.

Jacob pushed him over with his foot, then bent to Sayid, grasping him firmly by his hair, putting his lips at Sayid's ear. "You will not approach me unless I say," he instructed, his ancient accent thick and his voice a dark confidence, stepping away, leaving poor Sayid with no way to make amends, clearly in pain, despondent. Sayid remained on the floor as Sayid waited for his beloved's lips to make the sounds, as they both listened to each other breathe.

 _Oh,_ Sayid thought at last, finding his way. _Oh..._ He sat up, kneeling, fighting his inhibitions, tying to find a way for his deepest feelings to be expressed by a single word.

" _Please_ ," he said simply.

Jacob waited.

" _Please, Jacob, my love..._ " Sayid's voice became desperate.

Jacob waited, feeling his power, the power Sayid gave to him in this moment. _The deep pleasure of waiting..._

" _Jacob_..." Sayid pleaded, begging his lover, needing him, telling him, confessing his honest need.

Jacob waited, as though he was not on fire for Sayid, wanting to bring him up to him, kiss him with all of this passion, to fall with him onto the bed. _Not yet..._

Sayid was still struggling. 

Jacob bent down to him, cupping Sayid's head in his hands as he spoke low at Sayid's ear: "Try again, my love..." He stood again, and was thrilled by the change in Sayid's voice, in his body.

" _Jacob_..." Sayid begged, his voice breaking, desperate to find his way to his beloved. "I worship _you_. I love _you_. _Please_ let me come to you... my Jacob." 

It was as though a silent bell was struck, an invisible door opened. Sayid had not held back. He had given all, had let everything become these few words.

Jacob tucked away Sayid's triumph and his deep respect for it as a treasured memory. His great awe was the sweetness from which a great memory was made.

"Come to me, Sayid," Jacob commanded with honest warmth and admiration, Sayid's first reward. 

Sayid found Jacob's feet, and Jacob could feel his tears as he kissed his feet, then put his forehead on them, sighing and relaxing into his place in the world, with Jacob at the center.

Jacob felt a new strength in Sayid as as he lifted him up to him, looking into his eyes with a great and tender kindness for Sayid's full submission, kissing the tears of release, with low sighs, saying Sayid's name over and over as he kissed his face, his hands. Then Jacob clasped the back of Sayid's neck with his hand, encircling his waist with his other arm, and slowly, moved him down to the bed, moving him so that he could lie next to him, touching and kissing him with passion and profound satisfaction.

They held each other, grasping and pleasing each other, pushing against each other, rubbing their fullness, their lips and tongues, their faces together as they drove straight for release, ending in a sodden pile, their breath wild as they came back from a frenzied, passionate embrace of love as motion.

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE: Hand of fate** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380707/)

_He has come so far..._ Jacob thought as he readied himself, preparing for the next step. He offered Sayid his eyes, steady and clear. _Let us begin._ Jacob felt a surge of energy as he took up the Island's business. "My Sayee..." he said, reaching to Sayid as the hand of fate.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	31. Hand of fate

"Jacob," Sayid whispered as he touched Jacob's face, his eyes, his mouth, cupping his large hand over Jacob's face, feeling the bones underneath the fine skin, claiming him, hiding him. He wanted to possess Jacob's lips, his eyes, his hair, just as he had been possessed by Jacob, as he had pushed on him, grasping Jacob's body for his own pleasure. 

It was after midnight and cooler, and they were moist and richly scented from hours of passion. Sayid was tired and tender, and content to be spent and so near to Jacob, entangled together in the bed, their bed. It was still amazing to Sayid, every moment of laying and sleeping in a real bed after all these years. But then his own little cot was beyond precious and fine when his Jacob was in it.

 _We have been loving all day,_ Sayid thought with satisfaction. He lifted his head, smiling at tangled bedding, the pillows somehow across the room, the remains of meals plundered piled together on the floor.

Sayid looked down at Jacob, his eyes closed, drifting on his bliss, beautiful in the warm dance of the oil lamp beside them. And again Sayid was burning, remembering Jacob's movements, his body of smooth chalcedony, arching, falling into Sayid, wild against him, his eyes dancing, his hair finely feathered gold, all moving with the seasons of his passion. 

Jacob stirred, then opened his eyes, and they looked at each other with the relaxed eyes of perfect abandon, the soft gaze of lovers who find themselves well past every boundary and comfort that they had thought of as themselves. Jacob stretched against him, then settled again, his eyes closed.

Sayid was content, and happy. His thoughts did not change that, but he was aware of them.

 _I don't know why..._ _But I am done waiting._ _Waiting to know... to be like Jacob. To find out what that means_. Sayid felt himself outside of a place that he must enter to continue. But what action must he take?

 _What can I say to him?_ he put his finger on Jacob's lips, then cupped his hand against his cheek, lightly pushing back his hair.Sayid pictured Jacob insisting, _Sayid, you must listen,_ as he explained everything _,_ pushing the answers on Sayid, _forcing me to know_ _..._ he thought, smiling as he pictured Jacob's enigmatic face somehow concerned that he was not understood.

Sayid sat up, stretching and scratching. Jacob yawned, turning to push himself up, leaning against pillows that he arranged against the wall. He nestled his legs under Sayid's knees, happy as Sayid bent his legs comfortably over his, settling as he pleased. _I can give dominance to him in l_ _ittle ways_ , Jacob thought, knowing that Sayid craved this. _But I will always be the dominant one._ He watched as Sayid's face changed, eyes sharp, his lips tight with concentration. 

_It is time to begin,_ Jacob thought. _He_ _is ready to learn, we must begin._

The lamplight made shadows and moved the darkness around. An awareness of their silence grew and slipped between them. Their thoughts strayed to the edges of the room, their cooling sweat delicious under the searching hand of night, currents of night air slipping through the little windows in softly moaning whispers that joined with the gentle call of the distant waves. 

Sayid felt himself drifting up, looking down upon his new life. He caught the faint, croaking call of a night heron in flight, so that he imagined himself _out there_ , floating on silent wings above the dark water, following the beach away... away, to who he was before he met Jacob, and became something else. 

Jacob watched as Sayid seemed to drift, then focused again on the room, then on him, looking at Jacob with calm expectation.

 _He has come so far..._ Jacob thought as he readied himself, preparing for the next step. He offered Sayid his eyes, steady and clear.

 _Let us begin._ Jacob felt a surge of energy as he took up the Island's business.

"My Sayee..." he said, reaching to Sayid as the hand of fate.

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO: Resurgence** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380734/)

Sayid's mind was suddenly empty. He cried out inside as he felt something released in him, and with nothing to grasp, he felt himself stiffen with fear, lost in his own mind, suffocated by the very air of a _horrifying place_ , decay all around him, that which rots, that feeds on itself, the abomination that is buried, a hissing darkness. This was his lover, evil.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	32. Resurgence

"Sayee..." Jacob whispered the nickname he had given Sayid, reaching to him, placing his hand over Sayid's eyes. When he took his hand away, Sayid found himself rising naked to the clouds, now above the Island somehow visible as though in daytime, looking down on it as he had on the beach with Jacob. He felt himself still rushing upward, the air around him cooler, the island below him getting smaller, until another island appeared below him, near and to the East of the larger, mostly hidden in misty clouds. The mist seemed to slip away, and he saw that it was a smaller island, similar to the larger, a mountainous island surrounded with white sandy beaches broken occasionally by a high ridge of clinging vegetation that ran down into the sea.

As he watched, the mist reappeared, closing around the island, rendering it invisible.

And Sayid saw ship after ship approaching the larger island, tall ships, clippers and galleons, merchant ships old and new, modern ships of metal and engines both steam and diesel. They approached the island, letting down their little boats with oars or outboards out beyond the breakers, making quick time to the island where the boats were dragged ashore, disappearing on the beach. Sayid did not see these men or their little boats again, and the mother ships faded away, leaving the island unchanged, her heart utterly silent, no longer subject to their desecration, their hateful stomping and avarice.

_There is a presence..._

And then Sayid was falling, soaring down to their island, his island, spinning slowly, though he still felt the bed and Jacob holding him, somehow slipping down between the mountain ridges, then under the forest canopy at a breathtaking speed. He was flying up the little stream, over the little pool and beyond. He was flowing like water, but up over the rocks and falls, just above the water, naked, as he was in the bed.

He saw the cave before he came to it, a resurgence of water coming forth from a hidden place. In the smallest of moments, Sayid saw the huge mountains climbing in vast ridges above it, realizing that this water was filtered down through internal channels and underground rivers, flowing to the heart of the mountains, the heart of the island. And in the smallest of moments he also saw the entire island from under the sea, both islands one beneath the water, going down down to the ocean floor, a huge mountain with two lush tips above the ocean world.

“Jacob,” Sayid called, ecstatic.

“I am here,” Jacob answered, and Sayid felt again that Jacob held him, and was rocking him just slightly with his face against him as he was caressed by the warming air. Then he was gone.

And Sayid was floating, moving so slowly as he pushed against the stream, into the cave, enveloping him at last. There was an immediate hush as the water flowed around him, silent. He was breathing underwater, deep into the mountain darkness where he was blind, but somehow the passage appeared to him as living stone closing around him, offering embrace. Sayid was becoming smaller as he moved deeper, deeper into the island, smaller, and smaller still, until he had left the water behind and found himself held by the hard rock, still at last, a body and a being, a point of consciousness in a womb of dark silence, his heart's desire. There was only return, and he would not. The island was a _presence,_ the world a being moist and black. It became sterile, a hush of his breath, no sound for his ears. _This is what the Island shows me... what I find here... what I am._ Sayid had gone to the end of his evil, evil that waits where there is no more _contact_ , no more give or receive, only stillness, a strange and costly victory. The last stop. The end of living destinations.

He could not move. He did not want to. _I will not return to the light_ , he vowed inside, imagining the pain that it would bring, the crying out in his mind.

Sayid felt an entire island around the tiny womb of his destruction, his soul lost, leaving only a quiet of emptiness, a comfort of no feeling, a freedom from his forfeit will. In this moment, he felt again the first, fierce layer of the glowing embers of his evil which had been slicked off and left behind on a beach of the most tender memory, his Shannon laughing, alive under their tree, loving him. His tender need owned and then cast aside by James, and an answer to the evil of the one who had held him down as a child, pushing on him as he beat and raped as he himself had been beaten and raped by another long before Sayid was born.

 _I am still evil, I still know evil._ Sayid's mind seemed to burn as he thought of the balance in himself, and recognized where he was. _This is the place of evil, the place of pushing down_ , he thought as he pushed on the mountain's embrace, remembering how he surrounded his victims physically, binding them, scourging them. How he pushed down on them outside, and inside, so easy to hurt them, holding and twisting the sweeter places in them, damaging them, pushing down on them like an assassin at a victim's throat. He had learned to hurt them, to kill them, and he had learned to let them go, and it had made no difference to him.

Sayid could see himself clearly, every trade off, every devil's bargain. He had come to despise those who were good, who were weak. He rejected their life of _becoming_ , the tiny steps of those who reached for the ephemeral, grasping only spirit, an unseen nothing. He claimed what was _real_ with the stinging grasp of unbearable pain, making evil changes in others at his whim, claiming what could be had for free, at another's expense, or so it had seemed. Evil had felt so good to Sayid that he became saturated in it, a contracted, concentrated bliss, burning him, burning for more, blistering his soul, drawing him to evil again and again, each time building on the hot, molten pleasure of the last fevered passion, his own being contracting, rigid and hollow, patterned for evil by his lover, evil.

Sayid's mind was suddenly empty. He cried out inside as he felt something released in him, and with nothing to grasp, he felt himself stiffen with fear, lost in his own mind, suffocated by the very air of a _horrifying place_ , decay all around him, that which rots, that feeds on itself, the abomination that is buried, a hissing darkness. This was his lover, evil.

“Jacob!” he called out, lost in terror. And he was flailing against Jacob, his only help. _It is still here... inside of me. Evil._

Then he was shut away, waiting for her. His bride, evil, reached through the door of his living soul with rotting flesh and stench of long decay, grasping at the lock, seeking entrance. Sayid was suddenly rigid, he could not move. He was enveloped in a cold fear that made breathing a searching poison, that made the very air sting and claw at him. _She is finding the latch_ , he watched her arm, decaying, dead.... and then he heard her laughter. He realized then that he could not move, could not escape. He was held in place by his consciousness, hollowed out by his evil, trapped in a prison of his own making, and now bound by the unchallenged obsessions of evil, his ruler.

 _Her arm..._ His mind was surging with fear as she found the latch, pulling it back, releasing the door with a very quiet _shttnnggg_ sound that he felt and heard as spreading horror released and sounding through room after room of evil and darkness all around him, a sudden expanse of unseen dungeon.

_There is only evil..._

The silent door swung, opening to her touch, and she was finding her way to him, stepping into the cell of his mind, his mind given to the cold horror, with no escape. And Sayid could not move, he was frozen and alive as she walked slowly to him, a rag of a wedding gown upon her, the veil over her face, her arms and legs moldy and rotten, the flesh pocked and peeling, a stench beyond comprehension moving ahead of her as she slowly lifted her veil.

 _Her face_... she laughed and cooed to him as she came closer, demure, calling him her husband in shy tones of pleasure, confessing her passion as she had awaited his touches, as he came to her at last.

Sayid could not move as she brought her face to him, gray and green with rot, oozing holes, and flesh ripping, hanging from her face.

Sayid heard his own scream, a long scream of aching terror. _“Jacob! My Jay!!”_ He screamed, terrified beyond terror, grasping at Jacob, feeling Jacob laying upon him, holding him to the bed, rocking and rising with him, falling again with him, encircling him in his terror.

“ _I am here, Sayid_ ,” Jacob called to him.

Sayid was shaking under Jacob, his muscles aching, his throat dry. He had dug into his own palms with his fingernails, had dug into Jacob's back.

“Jacob, my Jacob...” he held to him, his eyes tightly closed. “Don't leave me, don't let go...” His body came to a rest under Jacob, his breath burning in him, as he waited, waiting for control of his own mind.

Sayid held Jacob tightly for several minutes as he was still unwilling to open his eyes. There were sounds, distant birds, the waves, but it was all a nightmare to him, and he could not awaken. He thought only of Jacob, his way back, pressing his face into Jacob's shoulder, shrouded by his scent. Sayid felt Jacob so close, loving him, offering him everything. Jacob offered him _everything_... the purity and delight of a life that was not about controlling others, a goodness that now rested upon Sayid in every way, a life that was free, and required no tithe or tribute, no pieces of the soul as fuel, fanning the flames of life hotter, and hotter still, as a fool burns his own house for warmth.

 _Jacob... Jacob...._ Jacob was beautiful, he was good. _What is good?_ There must be an answer, for here was good, this being called Jacob. _Can I choose good?_ Sayid felt himself reaching, realizing then that he still doubted, and how this robbed him of any real confidence in himself or his true nature.

 _What is good?_ He did not know.

Sayid felt himself released at last. The island like a mirror had held his evil up to him, and he had owned it, his reborn heart breaking, a slowly receding darkness scourging his newly reborn soul. 

_I am good_ , Sayid thought, feeling the deep heaviness in his breast lifting, his heart open, emptied of fear, somehow soaring with a full measure of bliss at last. He tried to speak but could not. When at last he did speak, he heard the new currents in his life, the old ones changed, the signs of these in his voice.

“You are good,” he said aloud, for Jacob to hear, his eyes still closed.

Jacob pulled Sayid's head firmly onto his shoulder, rocking him, kissing his hair.

“You are good, my Sayid,” he said.

A lifetime was finished, a new one beginning. Sayid opened his eyes, and found himself safe, in the arms of his beloved. He was looking up, taking comfort in the familiar patterns on the rocky ceiling above, alive in the nimble light moving in a natural rhythm on the ceiling.

 _I am good,_ he thought as he drifted into delicious, sensual sleep.

* * *

Author's note: The nightmare sequence in this chapter is directly inspired by a scene in an old horror movie, [Dungeon of Harrow (1962)](http://youtu.be/MKerj4s2iQg?t=1h6m) at 1:20

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: Loving** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380743/)

Jacob had taken Sayid in his hand lightly, speaking to his lover as Sayid began this oral pleasuring, and now he took Sayid into his mouth, connecting a heat that made their movements feed into each other. Jacob moaned with deep pleasure as he sucked and loved Sayid, matching Sayid's hypnotic movements so that their loving became about holding as much as moving, so excited to be holding each other in their mouths at the same time.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	33. Loving

Jacob complained in his sleep as Sayid slipped from his arms and their bed. Sayid enjoyed the cool, smooth stone under his feet as he walked through the temple and out into the cool touch of night. A dark hour of morning found Sayid walking some ways along the familiar path that continued away from the temple, enjoying the stars and the feel of the night air on his moist skin. He stood, relaxing into release, while naked, wishing that he had a cigarette, something he had not desired for a long time.

"Say..." Jacob's voice was low on the wind, so it seemed to travel around him. Jacob began urinating, imagining it was on the same black tuft of grass in the dark, laughing that he found it pleasurable for their urine to mingle, even as they mingled sweat and spunk and spit, their breath and their sounds with their joined pleasure made against each other in loving.

Sayid turned and caressed Jacob in the darkness, his back and buttocks, his arms and stomach and chest, rendering him more sensitive to the touches of the wind. He enclosed Jacob in his arms, Jacob's hair against his face, feeling the wind play in their hair, the magical _shooshing_ rising and falling at his ears.

Jacob turned to Sayid and they kissed lightly, then they walked back to their home together, knowing well the little path in the darkness, the familiar lush growth of plants and trees fluttering in the breeze around them, a wild garden that grew, which witnessed and grew with their love.

Sayid felt wonder and contentment as they stepped over the threshold of their strange abode. As they settled back into the bed, Sayid found himself floating on the memory of his vision from yesterday, before it had pulled him under, dissolving hidden places that he had walled off in himself, abandoned, so unkind. _I did not mean to be unkind to myself,_ he thought. _I had to save these things for later, until I felt I could face them without being destroyed by them._ He knew this, that he was healing somehow, and that this made him feel free and completely new.

 _"I choose this..."_ Sayid whispered to the Island as they settled back into sleep.

Sayid awoke in Jacob's arms and nestled his back against him, then stretching, rolled with a quickening joy to face his lover, awake and waiting for him, smiling, his eyes sleepy, his hair rippling and tufted. Sayid ran his fingers through Jacob's hair, clasping Jacob's head lightly as he pulled his lips to his own, tasting a lingering kiss, a soft delight.

" _Sayee..._ " Jacob breathed when their lips parted.

" _Jayee_..." Sayid answered before their lips came back together, and they snuggled deeper together in the bed, the covers up over their ears, a private space opening between them, muffled and moist in the dark.

"I am okay, Jacob," Sayid whispered, his voice relaxed, caressing Jacob's face, touching his wet lips.

 _"Yes,"_ Jacob said.

Sayid felt himself undone a little by this shared reference to his vision, but Jacob did not let him slip away, pulling him back. "It is still working inside you," Jacob's voice was quietly reassuring. _"_ And you are here... with me." Jacob's voice was warm with desire.

They kissed again, and Jacob surprised his lover by sucking on Sayid's tongue, satisfied by his wild success in changing Sayid's breath with sudden passion, and denying for just a moment Sayid's insistence on sucking on Jacob's in return. 

Immediately Sayid sat up, turning to offer his erect penis to Jacob's mouth as he took Jacob into his own, so thrilled by this that he focused on his mouth upon Jacob's hardness as an exquisite pleasure, and slowed to a hypnotic movement and pressure that brought Jacob's testicles hard up against the base of his penis, ready for ejaculation. While still pleasuring him, Sayid expertly slipped his thumb and forefinger around the place between Jacob's testicles and his perineum and so gently squeezed, pushing Jacob's testicles down a little, loosening them, making it more difficult to ejaculate.

Jacob had taken Sayid in his hand lightly, speaking to his lover as Sayid began this oral pleasuring, and now he took Sayid into his mouth, connecting a heat that made their movements feed into each other. Jacob moaned with deep pleasure as he sucked and loved Sayid, matching Sayid's hypnotic movements so that their loving became about holding as much as moving, so excited to be holding each other in their mouths at the same time.

The sounds of loving filled their room and their hearts as they let go, as they went to it, having each other, taking from each other, their wild need and the vigor of morning overcoming their restrained motions.

Sayid grasped Jacob and continued his motions with his hand as he came, his head and body falling back as he cried out, "oh... oh... OH..." Jacob's mouth so insistent and loving as he swallowed Sayid's semen, leaving Sayid's penis in his mouth, as Jacob overcome by Sayid's mouth again on him, a passion on him as he too let his head drop back for his release, calling and calling, his voice hoarse, his body's complaint, that it was too much, and so just enough. Sayid swallowed his come, making careful motions of just the right pressure to continue his pleasure without layering too much sensation, milking so slightly at the end to receive the last of Jacob's spunk.

They lay together for a moment, holding each other with their mouths, tenderly, with no motion to jar their sensitivity and floating pleasure, feeling the hypnotic place of holding, of accepting each other, so delicious and fine.

Sayid let Jacob slip so slowly, lightly from his mouth, sighing as Jacob also did so with him. Then Sayid sat up, turning and falling so slowly into his place at Jacob's side, putting his forehead to Jacob's, his hand on Jacob's head, both with eyes closed, their breaths deep and settling. 

"I love you, Jacob... my Jacob," Sayid breathed onto Jacob's face, feeling his closed eyes so close, his breathing so close, his lips....

Their kiss was as much about sharing the taste of their spunk as about pleasuring and communication of love and desire.

"Sayee..." Jacob answered quietly as their lips parted, his voice low and still broken from calling out, still drifting on his pleasure.

Sayid wrapped his arms around Jacob and squeezed him gently, settling with Jacob's head on his shoulder, feeling Jacob's body warm and so pleasingly intimate upon him. 

_My... my... my...._ he thought, drifting on his own deep pleasure and heavy relaxation. _My Jacob..._

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: We are needed** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380758/)

"What do you see?" Jacob asked. Sayid didn't answer right away. Somehow he already knew what Jacob was asking.

"There is no person that the Island has brought here," Sayid said.

"Yes," Jacob said. "You would know if there was, and you know that there isn't."

Jacob's hand remained over Sayid's eyes. Sayid saw the hidden beach again. The men, their belongings, the ship at the breakers were all gone.

"The Island has moved them far away," Jacob whispered.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	34. We are needed

Sayid awoke early, finding the bed empty. He stretched and rolled over to find that Jacob was dressed, sitting in his desk chair, waiting for him to wake up.

Sayid sat up, curious about a special alertness that he detected in Jacob. He found his clothes and dressed, then sat at the edge of the bed. _I will learn more today_ , he thought

Jacob spoke. "It has been many years, but once again, people have found the island and have come here for their own reasons. They have come ashore south of your people's camp. There is a possibility we must go there.”

He waited as Sayid absorbed this information. Sayid turned his head away, looking at the wall at the mention of the southern beach, where he had been used and broken. It was Jacob's turn to wait.

“I will,” Sayid said.

Jacob felt his admiration for Sayid visible in his eyes as they met.

“Sometimes people come here....” Jacob's voice changed, and Sayid felt him taking him into his confidence. “... they come because there is someone aboard their ship that the Island needs, usually someone who was on the Island once before, or who has been touched by someone who was. No matter which course the Island requires about intruders, we must be careful to look for this person or persons first. If we find such a person, we must go there to retrieve them. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Sayid said, ready to learn, to get it done, to be a part of the wider plan.

“Good,” Jacob said.

 _Good_... Sayid thought.

"Keep your eyes closed," Jacob instructed as he leaned forward and placed his open hand on Sayid's forehead, then slid his palm down over Sayid's eyes. "Eyes closed..." Jacob repeated as Sayid felt Jacob's hand withdrawn. Immediately he saw the ship at the breakers, and the small beach, hidden between the arms of two ridges, a beach that he knew south, south of Shannon's beach. He saw that a zodiac and another larger boat were pulled up on the beach. Men were unloading wooden boxes and assembling gear on a huge tarp staked far up the beach, set up with assorted folding tables, and with another tarp over it all. 

"What do you see?" Jacob asked. Sayid didn't answer right away. Somehow he already knew what Jacob was asking.

"There is no person that the Island has brought here," Sayid said.

"Yes," Jacob said. "You would know if there was, and you know that there isn't."

Jacob's hand remained over Sayid's eyes. Sayid saw the hidden beach again. The men, their belongings, the ship at the breakers were all gone.

"The Island has moved them far away," Jacob whispered.

Sayid waited. He felt they were finished and wondered if he should open his eyes. But then he saw it, the heart on the tree, her eyes sparkling like the water, her hair whispy and moving with the breeze, her voice, her laugher, her slender hand in his own. Then he felt as though he fell from a sudden height, knocking the wind out of him. He looked around, feeling the despair, wholly unprepared to face the ugly despair of this place. He turned slowly, looking into the distance up and down the beach, then out to sea. The beach had been reshaped by the ocean currents, the wind and rain. He closed his eyes, remembering how his world had looked when he was camped there, broken, his trust in the world destroyed. His hands were shaking as he turned and touched the little heart carved into the tree, remembering her, needing that memory. 

Again Sayid felt the strange sensation where Jacob's hand was holding his own, Jacob's other hand still touching his face, this time bringing his awareness back to their home.

Sayid did not want to open his eyes. He was ecstatic. He felt his body filling with light, pushing outwards from inside of him, a profound rush of feeling and grace emanating from him. All through him this energy seemed concentrated, to fill him with a sort of strange fullness. It felt like this energy was pushing his being just a little more open, filling him with more and more energy so that his boundaries seemed to stretch. His heart was expanding as well, and he could feel little prickles as though a sort of binding over his heart was stretching.

 _This is the opposite of pushing down, of corrupting the life force,_ Sayid thought. _This is opening._ Sayid felt it, the piece that had been a mystery, slipping into place. _This is what it means to be good._

**Sayid felt Jacob had removed his hands, and opened his eyes, looking into Jacob's eyes so close, so hopeful it seemed to him. He asked himself again, so many times. _Why? Why was I broken?_ He still didn't know. But he was sure of Jacob.**

**"My Jay..." Sayid said softly, somehow knowing the words Jacob hoped for, and that they were true. "I know that you could not come to me."**

Jacob felt his heart leap, his immense feelings a sudden rush of inhalation as he covered his face with one hand, then fell onto Sayid's shoulder, feeling the tears come. Sayid waited, caressing Jacob's back, not experienced with tears. 

**"You chose me, Sayid," Jacob said at last, lifting his head. He watched as Sayid found and fit another compelling piece of redemption. "When all was lost, you chose to hope. You did not bargain or bind your spirit as you did when you were a boy and as a man. You reached out to _me_... and I love you for this, Sayid. You chose me. Because of this, we can be together. Because of this, you will eventually be like me."**

Sayid was aware of the closely muffled sounds of the sea as he looked around in wonder, knowing already that his knowledge of home had been changed, that he was to see it anew.

But Jacob was slipping back into the bed, pulling Sayid's hand, hugging Sayid to him as they slipped into the bedding. With a few sighs it was done, they were completely relaxed and ready for sleep, with a perfect luxury for each man to drift into sleep after strong emotions.

"This is a very strange place," Sayid whispered, finding sleep.

Jacob smiled as he flowed with his own currents of sleep, _inside..._ caressed by the delicious feelings of the heart. 

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: Alone** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380767/)

Jacob was somewhere without him, and Sayid guessed that he was away from the island, picturing him walking in Western clothes, other humans around him. _Jacob is safe_ , he needed these words. _I am safe_. There was only one other who could come here, and he felt sure Jacob would not permit that, at least for a time. Sayid knew how to get to the beach and the rest of the island, if necessary, without the arch in the rock.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	35. Alone

Sayid awoke alone. Jacob went out sometimes without awakening him. Sayid enjoyed thinking about him while he was away.

Now Sayid enjoyed claiming both sides of the bed and balling up all the blankets, tossing all the pillows exactly where he wanted them. He breathed in Jacob's smell on his pillow, then napped on it. He reached to the bedside table, then smoked his herb cigarettes in bed, knowing Jacob would smell them and scold him when he returned. He urinated in one of the bottles Jacob kept for water so he didn't have to get out of bed, sighing with an intense pleasure as he overcame a life of training his body to never piss while in the bed.

He dozed for hours, dreaming of Jacob, each time awakening with more and more of the neurotransmitters for sleep, a dopey wash, a internally communicated state that saturated his brain and his body.

He eventually got up, and rifled through some of Jacob's things. He looked at Jacob's journal, touching the worn cover lovingly, but did not open it. He took one of the sheets of Jacob's drawing paper and drew a pornographic image on it of a recent sexual position that Jacob would recognize, smiling, then laughing. 

He tried to play Jacob's flutes, but their design eluded him.

Sayid danced around their room naked, making obscene gestures, then ran into the temple, dancing about with a token air of reverence. He felt that the divine was watching him with delight.

He was a little more cautious about pilfering precious supplies. Jacob had built up their supplies so that Sayid did not have to gather or fish, as he was not yet proficient at either. Jacob had some items that he had mysteriously obtained away from the island, though he had not yet explained how or why. Sayid knew exactly what he wanted, the dried dates, a saturated, almost crunchy sweetness. He tried to eat only a portion, but settled on not eating them all. He made a tray of food and set it on top of his books beside the bed, looking forward to falling back into the luscious bed, to laze again for hours.

He stood for a time at Jacob's loom, studying the designs, finding nothing familiar. He had never examined it or touched the loom in front of Jacob, and somehow knew not to interrupt him when he went to it, as though it drew him at the right moment. He touched Jacob's tools with affection, remembering the movements of Jacob's hands at the loom.

He thought of Jacob, missing him, his smile, his eyes, his gentle energy and special way of touching Sayid, a sort of pushing his palm along his body, _feeling_ his skin, communicating with how he was made, underneath. It reminded him of petting a cat, and made him wish that he could purr. Jacob's language of touch sent him into a contented sort of circling, inward, becoming Jacob's focus, taking his place at the center of Jacob's life and joy.

Jacob was somewhere without him, and Sayid guessed that he was away from the island, picturing him walking in Western clothes, other humans around him. _Jacob is safe_ , he needed these words. _I am safe_. There was only one other who could come here, and he felt sure Jacob would not permit that, at least for a time. Sayid knew how to get to the beach and the rest of the island, if necessary, without the arch in the rock.

Jacob had focused on teaching Sayid the daily rites of the temple. He explained that the worship of the divine must be tended to daily in the temple unless it was physically impossible. There were then special rites to perform upon returning if this were to happen. Keeping faith with the divine, he called it. The _shakti_ came and went as she pleased, but she must always find them faithful in their worship of and tending to the emblems of the divine.

Sayid went to the little stream near the temple and performed a ritual bath in the fresh air of morning. He felt himself focusing, settling into preparation for the hypnotic rites of worship. Every time he performed them, he became more saturated with his own longing for God, for the divine in the form of his beloved, calling him to him.

Sayid carefully cleaned the temple, his newly bathed feet bare on the smooth floor, respectfully "bathing" the murtis with sprinkles of water he blessed and offered with love, preparing them for worship. He swept the entire temple, reciting the _mantras_ to the rhythm of his work, saturating every corner with worship and love.

Sayid then changed into the special, plain cotton clothes, white, and a cherished saffron colored scarf. He waved the lights, fragrant charcoal incense and other items before each of the _thangas_ and the three _murtis_ , repeating the _mantras_ and _pranaming_ before each one. When he was done, he could feel the air sparkling with energy, with love and bliss that he also felt in full measure in his heart.

* * *

Sayid returned to the room with a special task in mind. He wanted to love himself, and had not done so for some time. He carefully put the ritual clothes away, and taking up the little flask of oil and a larger flask of water, he sat upon Jacob's stool near the rays of morning sun coming in from the little windows above, so that he could see his own body clearly, golden in the warm light.

He shook his head as he undid the knot in his hair, shaking it out, feeling the sensual touch of it on his face and shoulders. He lifted his hair off his shoulders, letting it fall again in a delicious cascade of heavy locks. He sprinkled water on himself, as though preparing himself for worship. then admired his chest, running his hand through the hair there and on his belly, the tiny prickle of the slowly drying water sending a wave of relaxation through his body. He slid his hand down his belly to the thick hair _there_ , slipping his hand flat with his fingers on either side of his cock, pushing firmly, slipping his balls up on his fingers, grasping the base of his hardening cock.

_I am alone..._

He stood and threw several of the cushions onto one of the rugs, and lay out upon them, leaning against the bed, drinking the water and feeling his body, what he wanted of himself.

He took up the oil and poured some into his hand, rubbing it onto himself, letting his head fall back so his body arched, pulling the skin around his cock and balls slightly, increasing their sensitivity. He stroked the oil up and down, applying it to all parts of his cock, focusing on the compelling sensations there, letting them move his body and breath.

Immediately he took up his one of his favorite fantasies.

_Sayid lived under the sea, and could swim very quickly and with great agility, like a seal. He lived in a beautiful underwater world with other such beings, male and female. Sex was simply a part of swimming there, there was swimming without sex, and swimming with sex, and the transition was seamless. Sex was initiated by simply having sex._

_He imagined himself swimming with his companions, full of light-hearted fun and the constant delight of their twirling, swirling pleasure in the sensuous water, brushing against one another, kissing underwater, fondling each other's genitals, playfully entering orifices with fingers and sudden erections, bringing each other pleasure._

_He imagined a man swimming up from behind and entering him smoothly as they swam like dolphins, leaping out of the water, then back under, curling around each other, his hand on Sayid's cock, Sayid's jism spraying into the water, accepting his lover's inside of him._

_He imagined swimming alongside a voluptuous woman, long hair swirling like a mermaid as he circled her, swimming around her over and over, running his hands around and around her irresistible, floating breasts, pinching her nipples, making her laugh. He clasped her to him suddenly, entering her as she arched away from him, pulling his mouth onto her breasts. She laughed, a sweet tinkling, then a frothy bubbling as she writhed in ecstasy from his pleasuring, as he slid in and completely out of her over and over, as they slowly, slowly sank through the warmer water to the cooler, silent water below._

_Her sighs and calls in the silent water were hypnotic and primal, her muscular body jerking about as she orgasmed, reminding him of a jellyfish. He stayed in her, pushing hard and quick as he also came, pulling out to see the jism again spurting into the water, a special sort of accomplishment._

Sayid was aware of their room around him as he heard the sounds of his vigorous stroking, making the groans that went with his tensing body, arching against the bed.

He slowed a little, enjoying the warmth and hum of pleasure that he felt throughout his body. He had felt his pleasure at the beginning building very slowly from a deep place, and knew that he would last a long time. How delightful to be so sensitive, to pull on himself just as he liked, with just this much pressure in each place, changing his motions with his pleasure, hearing his own breathing with a repetitive, silky “uh” with each stroke on his cock.

He brought more oil on his hand to his penis, anointing it, worshiping it. He loved his erect penis, silky brown under the oil, “uncut” as Jacob called it. He loved to play upon the soft foreskin as he stroked, feeling an added dimension to his pleasure that he could not imagine doing without. His pubic hair was jet black, like his hair, a worthy nest. His penis was very brown, more brown than his skin, like an exotic fruit, a being in its own right, proud and full of surprises.

Sayid felt himself lifting inside, a sort of rushing feeling of concentrated pleasure that demanded his movements, his dance of pleasure, as he slipped back into his fantasy.

And Sayid felt his imagination and pleasure surging...

_They were rushing about as he was slipping his penis into women and men, their mouths, their vaginas, their anuses were all available to him as he pleased, as his were to them._

He was pulling hard on himself, faster, then faster still. His breath became desperate, needing what was promised by the pleasure, the building pleasure that needed to be released.

_In a delightful moment of swirling about each other, his companions all orgasmed at the same time, the men squirting into the water, the women grasping their vaginas, making a show of their secretions, all calling and sighing in tandem, releasing a torrent of rising bubbles, tumultuous, racing to the surface._

Sayid had slid away from the bed and was arching upon the cushions, his hand in full motion, quick and quick and QUICK as he came, groaning loudly, groaning, then sighing with passion and pleasure as his bluilding sensation crested and he spurted high onto his stomach and chest, his balls so tight that he grabbed them with his left hand, pulling them against himself firmly, prolonging the spasms in his testicles and the base of his penis.

Sayid lay without thinking for several minutes, enjoying a profound relaxation a little different than the one he experienced with Jacob.

 _Jacob..._ he thought, missing him. How hard it is to be apart, to not be able to give to him, to watch over him.

 _Hurry back to me, my love..._ he prayed. _I cannot bear this...._

_Jay Jay Jay... my Jay._

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX: Return** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380782/)

_Now we are floating,_ Jacob thought, then gasped from his pleasure as he looked down so closely at the slowly changing expressions of ecstasy on Sayid's face, his lips parted, his head moving very slowly, a little to each side.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	36. Return

Sayid sat at the desk, working on some maps and drawings he had undertaken in Jacob's absence.

 _Oh dear god, let him bring coffee..._ he thought, wondering where he was, what he was doing.

Sayid looked up, listening carefully.... _yes!_ Again he heard the familiar whistle and immediately he was flying though the temple, “Jay... Jay... Jay...” as he ran down the steps and into Jacob's arms, almost knocking him down. They squeezed each other, laughing as brothers, then passionate as they hugged and kissed and tried to reinvent kissing to express their love and joy.

Jacob had dropped his shoes and several bags behind him, and Sayid helped him gather them up, carrying them through the temple to their home. Jacob touched his heart, closing his eyes as he greeted the deities, knowing they would understand if _this time_ he did not come to them first.

They dropped the bags and Jacob's pack onto the floor near the desk, Jacob's funny hat on the chair, and began pulling their clothes off themselves and each other, laughing and playing at hurrying. Sayid jumped up and smacked the low place on the ceiling, his favorite, proud symbol of his prowess, his genitals swinging wildly. Jacob lost his usual reserve, and sat on his hat, sideways on the desk chair, dropping his face onto his folded arm, laughing then coughing loudly as he slid off his pants. Sayid grabbed Jacob's pants impatiently, slipping them off of him in one motion.

They jumped up and ran into each other as they tumbled onto the bed, rolling, and rolling again, squeezing each other tightly, smelling each other, taking their feel of each other, of their hair, their furry chests, noses in armpits, then hair, then noses together, foreheads together, their thirst for each other slowly quenched by the full contact of their naked bodies.

Sayid could smell coffee beans, and he kissed Jacob over and over, “mmmm my love mmmm you brought me coffee... mmmmmmm” he cooed, pleasuring Jacob by praising him for pleasing him.

"I can smell cigarettes,” Jacob chided, and Sayid felt sorry. _“My love...”_ Jacob said after a moment, forgiving him, kissing him lightly.

They were quiet then, kissing gently, with a slow rhythm of settling upon each other, remembering who they were together before they took up the doing of it.

After awhile, they slipped outside, blinking in the bright sunlight, Sayid walking gingerly up the trail, wishing his feet were as tough as Jacob's. They relieved themselves, then went to fill their flasks at the special stream. Jacob touched his heart again as he knelt and put his fingers to the water for a few seconds before dipping into the clear water.

They were quiet as they walked through the temple, quiet as they walked through their room, as they came down to each other in the bed, searching each other's eyes for the love and delight they felt in that moment, then nestled close, down into the covers, petting each other, sighing with relief and pleasure.

Jacob awoke and found that Sayid was on his back, sleeping soundly. He smiled, then slipped from the bed. Sayid's feet and lower legs were uncovered, and Jacob was drawn to the hidden place above them. Slipping carefully onto the bed between Sayid's legs, placing his hands carefully on either side of his pelvis, Jacob slipped his head under the covers, and very slowly and softly took Sayid into his mouth.

Sayid stirred, but did not awaken, reaching down to scratch at his balls. Jacob moved away, smiling as Sayid settled again, breathing loudly. Jacob waited, remembering a funny moment from his trip, then listening again as Sayid's breathing changed. Sayid had become very still, and Jacob knew that he was in the place between dreams, when all movement and thought stopped.

Jacob felt that he had a private moment with Sayid's penis then, in a way he had never felt before. He lifted the covers with his head, looking at his dark brown cock from his vantage point at his thighs, blowing on the moist places around it, watching Sayid's scrotum lift and curl slightly. He enjoyed the salty scent from the secret places, remembering all the times he had thought of them when Sayid was near, and far.

Finally he moved up again, and carefully slipped the head of Sayid's penis between his lips, gently pursing them upon it, then slowly slowly sucked Sayid's penis into his mouth. He felt it beginning to harden before Sayid responded, sighing as he was awakened by his lover's lips on his penis, a visceral and exquisitely pleasurable surprise.

“Ohhh....” Sayid moaned, clearly overcome by an instantaneous intensity that was usually built up, surging through him while deeply relaxed, and trusting all with his lover near.

Sayid was suddenly very hard with the special hardness of great excitement, and Jacob strove to match this with a special pleasuring, making new motions and noises, sucking between his tongue and the top of his mouth without his lips touching, pulling with his lips around the glans of Sayid's penis as though to lengthen it, shaking his head slightly. He added more and more saliva until he was sucking liquid against his tongue, then swallowed suddenly, plunging the entire length of Sayid in his mouth, holding him there, completely still, unable to breath until he slipped off a little, then back on after a quick breath.

Sayid was far away, somewhere inside where he was surrounded by pleasure as his penis was surrounded by Jacob, hot and sticky moist. His moans became gasps, and Jacob pushed him a little further, moving up and down in a steady rhythm, lips tight, the motions that would send Sayid over the edge if he didn't stop.

He stopped, and Sayid's moans were a loud complaint, the cry of the newly bereft.

 _“Jay... Jay... I need you now...”_ he whispered low, as though from inside. Jacob thought that Sayid might get angry with him soon, and smiled, waiting.

Suddenly Sayid sat up a little, shaking off his passion. "Jacob!" he chided, his voice serious.

Jacob said nothing, pointing to the little bottle of oil on the bedside table, then relaxing back on his heels, waiting.

Sayid glared at him, then relented, taking the little flask of oil from the bedside table, holding it out to Jacob with a look that meant business, tempered by a knowing smile.

Jacob smiled back at him for just a moment, still tormenting him, then took the oil and covered his own erect penis with a generous amount, handing the bottle back to Sayid, who started to turn as he put it back on the little table.

“No,” Jacob said, pushing Sayid onto his back, then lifting Sayid's legs up until they were on his belly, putting his weight on them, guided his penis to the tight opening, using his finger to push some of the oil inside.

“Oh god,” Sayid said as Jacob pushed into him, holding Sayid's legs up, his knees over Jacob's shoulders. Jacob stroked long and slow inside him for several strokes, keeping Sayid's hand away from his penis.

He stopped again. _“Don't you dare come yet, Say,”_ he said, his voice low, a warning and a command.

Sayid was bucking against him, and Jacob held firm, letting Sayid move on him as he pleased. He began stroking again, pushing hard into Sayid, pushing against his legs so that Sayid folded up with Jacob's weight on him, giving Jacob full access to his tightness.

Again Sayid reached his hand to Jacob's penis, and Jacob took his hand, grabbing his other hand, laying full out on him with Sayid's hands clasped by Jacob above his head.

Jacob stroked steady, with long thrusts that ended with an audible slap against Sayid, lifting and curling Sayid's body with each stroke.

 _Now we are floating,_ Jacob thought, then gasped from his pleasure as he looked down so closely at the slowly changing expressions of ecstasy on Sayid's face, his lips parted, his head moving very slowly, a little to each side.

Finally grasping Sayid's penis as if it was his own cock, he began to stroke it with his oily hand, careful to be somewhat amateur about it, which clearly sent Sayid into a place of pure frustration.

 _“Fuck me!”_ Sayid begged. _“Jay... my Jay... Make me come..."_

Sayid opened his eyes and Jacob slowed, loving Sayid with his eyes, cooing at him as Sayid looked at Jacob with a look of pure heat and animal need, with the promise of a sexual retribution implicit in his gaze.

Immediately Jacob began thrusting with full strokes that pushed Sayid's body up over and over, expertly milking Sayid as he was arching in a stiffened silence for several moments of complete ecstasy and pleasure.

“Come for me, Say...” Jacob said quietly as he pushed further up onto his own knees, grasping Sayid's legs tightly, giving him exactly the stroke and speed that Sayid needed most, coordinating his hand and his fucking.

Sayid pushed against Jacob's motions as he came, his loud, growling moan interrupted over and over by the rhythm of Jacob's hard driving movements. Then Sayid was jerking and twisting on Jacob as he came, Jacob suddenly pushing even deeper, tighter against him between strokes, feeling the pleasure moving through Sayid's body also moving on his cock.

 _I have returned..._ Jacob thought with a burst of passion, his breath rising, then expelled forcefully as he bent forward in ecstasy. He grasped his own cock as he came, pulling out of Sayid as he sought the next wave of pleasure with his hand, his body undone and falling forward as he moaned. He watched with pleasure as his stream jumped onto Sayid, adding his own come to the im a xsd qsive quantity of Sayid's milky white semen, beautiful on his golden skin, nestled in his belly and chest hair, rising and falling as Sayid's breathing was flung by pleasure wild and deep.

Sayid felt his mind slowly searching, constructing his world as though he was just now arising from sleep, forming the sensations of several minutes into _now_ , making with his breath the sounds of return from an unexpected journey.

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN: Shaktipat** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380794/)

And still the sparks continued upward, outward, as they became a golden stream of divine energy that sailed out from Sayid into space, far above the earth, past galaxies, past all stars and galaxies, then slowly turning, it began its journey all the way back to him, turning and rushing up through his spine again, over and over.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	37. Shaktipat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Shaktipat_ is the passing or transmitting of a conscious living force or energy from initiator to initiate. Shaktipat awakens the dormant energy of Kundalini, and continues to direct its ascent through the chakras over the lifetime of the initiate.**

Sayid would not let go of Jacob. All night he kept Jacob close, pulling his body hard against him, his arms loose around him whenever Jacob moved, then tight again, sighing back into Jacob in his sleep.

Morning brought the need in Jacob to rise early and begin. He managed to slip from Sayid's arms, his skin already feeling the water flowing around him as he walked up to the stream for his ritual bath. He pictured Sayid waking while he was gone, then going back to sleep, thinking this day was no different from any other.

Jacob carried flasks for water, a little brush of natural bristles, a small flask of oil, and the special basin they used for ritual bathing of the _murtis_ , and for when it was too muddy or rainy to bathe in the stream. He walked along the stream to the little pool, stepping into the water, craving ritual. He set everything on the large flat boulder at the head of the pool, then submerged himself, taking in the sweet energy of the Island nectar that flowed as water. The water curled softly against his face and shoulders in a widening current, his feet craving the coolness, grasping with feeling the smooth and concave rocks below, scoured by the water. When he stood, he felt the purification rearranging his inner life, keeping his essence available for his role. Putting his fingertips in the water, with eyes closed, he worshiped the divine as the heart of the Island, touching with love that love which flowed from that secret and mysterious place, not really a place at all.

He turned to dip the glass flasks into the water, holding them by the net carriers he had made for them, pushing them down as they filled. He submerged for several moments the little flask of oil, a cork stopper protecting the contents, smiling at the sometimes purpose of it as he slipped it into the netting with one of the flasks. He then submersed the little brush, adding it to the other flask's netting. Holding one each in his hands, he smiled to think of these four items as a little kit of sorts.

And Jacob was surging with bliss, and he moaned, wavering slightly, feeling the special glow in his heart of divine energy rising through him, preparing him for something he would only do once in his long life.

He placed the metal basin under the water then, careful to keep it completely submerged for some time. When he was sure the basin was pure, he held it carefully as he gathered all into it, feeling the items charged with divine grace, walking back to the temple with the even, unhurried steps of _the one who knows._

Jacob had spent extra time in the temple before his journey off island, cleaning and tending to the beautiful furnishings, waving a special charcoal _dhoop_ incense, a fragrance so intoxicating that he was sure the divine rushed from all of the three worlds to receive it. He had waved the tiny oil lamps arranged on a tray before all the images of the Beloved, lost in bliss as he poured through the _mantras_ over and over, finding himself in face down _pranam_ in front of Lord Krishna, who captivated him with his irreverent delight and boundless love, and how he sometimes lovingly offered playful surprises for Jacob, such as keeping offered flowers blooming for several weeks instead of days.

Today, as Jacob drew the divine with his devotion, worshiping and loving God with sound and motion, fragrance and flame, he asked over and over for the openness to grace, to be the container and the mirror of the grace he would share with Sayid. At last he _pranamed_ before Mother Durga, and had her _darshan_ , he worshiped the divine as Durga Ma, who comes in all power and sets things right. As a protector, Jacob knew that he must always have her power and protection, and on this day Jacob repeated her mantras with a special surge of the profound love that he felt for the Beloved as Durga.

He then lay before Lord Shiva, having his _darshan_ for some time, his mind empty except for the _mantras_. Rising, he touched the Lord's feet and bowed respectfully as he lifted the special pashmina wool and silk prayer shawl offered at the feet of the Lord for several weeks now, placed there when Sayid still did not know of this place. He placed the shawl around his own neck, waiting but a moment, then choosing to begin.

Walking back through the temple, he felt that _this_ was the time, that all of those countless times of walking towards his little room and his empty bed were just practice, a preparation.

There were morning shafts of bright sun coming in from the little windows above as Jacob entered their room, enjoying the absolute silence of his bare feet on polished stone. He found Sayid laying on his back, an arm above his head, eyes unfocused, a thoughtful look as he lay uncovered on the bed. Jacob stopped, taken by his beauty, so that they were both absolutely still in the last moments of _this_ slipping around them, the sounds of the day muffled, the light already gentle in Jacob's heart with the promise of newness.

Jacob moved as one entranced, placing the basin and the water near the bed on the floor, the flask of oil and the little brush on the bedside table. He rolled the beautiful rug away, revealing the polished stone beneath. Then he went to his work corner, taking his little stool and returning to place it next to the bed.

Sayid looked at him, completely relaxed.

“My love,” Jacob began. Sayid found the ecstasy in Jacob's face and sat up, taking in these arrangements, attentive and curious as he sat on the edge of the bed, his feet on the cold stone.

“To serve the island, we take up our armor, my Say...” Jacob began simply. “You already wear this armor, but you do not control it. I have kept it about you all of these years.”

Sayid was moved by this, _feeling_ it. As someone who had not been protected as a child, who had protected himself at the cost of his own vulnerability all of his life, this embrace was something profound, a certain burden lifted, one that would never return.

“I know that you are ready to learn, Sayid. But I will always ask, so tell me it is so,” Jacob waited as Sayid nodded, then said “Yes.”

“Good,” Jacob motioned for Sayid to move forward a little on the bed, sliding the basin next to his feet.

“My Sayid... That which you must learn, to find and to control the armor, is to feel the Island in your body, in your feet, in your feet upon it.”

Sayid looked down at his feet, moving them just a little. “Let me make all the movements, Say...” Jacob instructed. He looked at Sayid's feet, so unique, so beautiful to him. His love for Sayid filled him with a thrilling warmth, a divine desire to hold him up, to show him how to make of himself more, and more, forever.

Jacob closed his eyes. He pictured the sacred circle around them, made of light, a container for light. He called to the Heart of the Island, an energy that surged up from below, filling the circle, a luminescence spinning slightly as it formed a pattern in the special magnetism of the island. Jacob bowed inside to this light, worshiping it with great reverence.

Sayid watched as Jacob sat erect on his stool, eyes closed, his hand at his heart. He seemed to soften from within, and Sayid was moved by his beauty, an eternal presence.

Jacob opened his eyes, smiling at Sayid. He slipped from the stool, kneeling before him. He took Sayid's right foot, gently lifting it as a treasure, and placed it in the basin, swirling the water around it lightly.

Sayid was giddy. He began to fall back, and Jacob caught his hand while Sayid righted himself. “What is it, Jay?” he asked. _"I am floating..."_

Jacob took his other foot with special emphasis, knowing Sayid would be overcome when it touched the water. He held Sayid's hand firmly as he dipped Sayid's left foot into the cool water.

“ _Jay... Jay...”_ Sayid called as he slipped past so many places that he had thought of as himself until there was nothing, a place of turning, of return, rising through black silk, saturated with a secret darkness that moved.... _that breathed_.

Jacob waited until Sayid could sit up on his own, then took the little brush of soft bristles and gently washed Sayid's feet, rinsing them thoroughly in the basin. Sayid gazed at Jacob, seeing how perfect he was, how unique and totally his. He felt that he could not look away, entranced with the changes in Jacob's lips, his eyes, in the movements of his body. Then Sayid had slipped back inside of himself, opening, done and undone by this experience of sensual delight, captivated by the touch of his lover.

Jacob raised his eyes and looked at Sayid with only love. Jacob was aware of time spinning around the center place, where everything and every time took up no space, did not move or change. _We are this, and one_ , he thought, wanting his beloved to feel all of this bliss, and more, _more_.

Jacob bent to Sayid's feet, his palms on top of each golden foot in the clear water, closing his eyes. He realigned his energy as _intention_ around Sayid, preparing to offer the gift it to him as his equal. He pulled the silk shawl from his shoulders, then lifted Sayid's right foot from the water, draping the soft shawl over it, rubbing and drying his foot very slowly, communicating his love for Sayid with his movements, careful to dry all of his foot and in between his toes. He felt the power of the island waiting to flow into Sayid's feet, his feet treading upon the Island, always under protection, always protecting.

Jacob bent to Sayid's foot and kissed it lightly... _this part is for me_ , he thought as he let himself feel what this day meant to him, after so many years of preparation.

He placed Sayid's foot upon the floor, upon the Island. He offered himself, as he had offered all of his time, work and skill in choosing and preparing Sayid, now offering him to the Island.

Jacob took up Sayid's left foot, drying it carefully, then kissing it for a long time with great feeling, his lips soft and then firm against Sayid's foot, pursed with pleasure as he placed this foot upon the Island, resting on the floor of ancient rock. Then he moved the basin away, feeling the ritual complete, the last moments a certain potential.

 _This part is for me...._ Jacob smiled as he took up the oil, uncapping it, pouring a liberal amount into his hand. Taking Sayid's right foot, he gently smoothed the oil onto it, carefully saturating his entire foot, anointing it, whispering the _mantras_ as he set himself to a great purpose, making Sayid his own. 

The fragrance of the oil arose between them, a sweet smell of island gardenias mixed with the thick softness of the coconut oil, _sattvic_ and pure. Sayid felt his whole being caught on the fragrance, lifted by it, undone by the air, an exotic strangeness.

Jacob carefully set Sayid's foot down, and pouring more oil, lifted Sayid's left foot and lovingly smoothed and saturated it with the fragrant oil, rubbing it over and over, setting Sayid's foot down with a long, slow motion of _meaningfulness_. He took up the fine wool again, rubbing Sayid's feet over and over, feeling the purpose of the ritual taking shape.

 _And now..._ Jacob pictured his own protection over Sayid like a sheath sliding upwards, opening at the bottom where Sayid's feet now touched the place they both thought of as the Island.

Sayid felt a change in his body, and reached out to Jacob instinctively.

Jacob smiled, and said the words that were a song from his heart, “find the Island, Sayid, _underneath._ Find the Island... _inside.”_

Sayid felt an energy that he thought of as his body floating somehow, no longer tethered to him. He moved about inside, unsettled, needing something.... when he was overcome by a memory from when he was a boy. He had peered down a well, and it had seemed to him then that the darkness below had reached out to him, connecting with him, so that his entire being was suddenly still and sourced from that mysterious darkness, not below, but _inside_.

He felt this feeling again, and though his eyes were open, he saw in his mind's eye a benevolent energy moving as the center of the island, far below, a presence loving him, reaching out to him, filling his entire being with love and bliss. He experienced this presence flowing into him though his feet, claiming him, protecting him, loving him.

Sayid looked at Jacob with his eyes wide, the eyes of a profound worthiness, a redemption that has slipped in from _forever_ , that would hold him forever.

“My Jay...” Sayid said, for now everything was still, time itself a steady _shoosh_ at his ears. Sayid found Jacob as a soft stillness in the swirling pass of his life, passing, passing, and now a part of him, making him over, changing what would never again be changed alone.

 _“My Jay...”_ Sayid said, for he found Jacob _inside_.

There was a bed underneath him as he sat, but Sayid was held up by something that was alive, alive as the bed, alive instead of the bed.

And then, in his mind, Sayid saw a golden energy surging, flowing up from the dark depths of the ocean floor, moving, moving up through the huge underwater mountain, faster and closer, then bursting through the island and up through Sayid's spine, a shower of sparks that exploded through the top of his head, filling him with so much ecstasy that his head dropped back and his mouth opened as he was completely filled with an eternal portion of loving bliss.

And in his mind, Sayid saw the golden shower of sparks from his head burst into a huge spray, golden and silent in an inner world of sacred presence, still and dark. And in the midst of the golden sparks, he saw Lord Shiva dancing as the _Nataraj_ , the Lord's dance of consciousness, by which He creates everything that is.

And still the sparks continued upward, outward, as they became a golden stream of divine energy that sailed out from Sayid into space, far above the earth, past galaxies, past all stars and galaxies, then slowly turning, it began its journey all the way back to him, turning and rushing up through his spine again, over and over.

And in his mind's eye, he was aware of a sweet presence that was close to him, in him, that smiled at his bliss, happy and partaking of it, and he knew this presence was Jacob. He felt Jacob's love flowing through him, a sweet energy with a certain, recognizable _taste_.

He felt that Jacob closer than close. Jacob, his lover, waiting for him at the heart of the world, welcoming Sayid as though returning from a very long journey, one he began too long ago to remember. Jacob, his lover, who whispered with great love, the sound somehow in Sayid's heart, a place of sacred stillness. 

_Someday... you will be like me._

[ **CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT: Breath** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380824/)

Sayid had fallen immediately into a deep sleep, and Jacob held him, containing his energy as it was released and took shape, as the goddess _kundalini_ _shakti_ continued to make Sayid anew.

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	38. Breath

Sayid had fallen immediately into a deep sleep, and Jacob held him, containing his energy as it was released and took shape, as the goddess _kundalini_ _shakti_ continued to make Sayid anew.

Then Sayid felt his lover's arms slip around him, turning him to face him on his side, pulling the covers up as they liked, foreheads together. The cave was completely dark, so that they only knew each other through sounds and touch, smells and taste, all of which felt new to Sayid as he floated back into sleep.

Jacob kept vigil as the minutes, then hours passed, until Sayid reached around him, running his hand up Jacob's back, his fingers continuing up through Jacob's hair, holding Jacob's head lightly, pressing Jacob's forehead firmly against his own, so happy to be close to him. Sayid felt himself still riding a long wave of bliss, cresting and cresting, but not breaking. He took a deep breath, his pleasure in breathing in Jacob's breath with his own, letting his breath flow out long, opening to the bliss, letting it change him.

“ _What are you, Jay...?”_ He whispered, hearing the wonder in his own voice, the change in it amplified by the darkness.

Jacob snuggled his face against Sayid's cheek, bringing his lips to Sayid's ear, eyes closed as he breathed out, a long _huuuuuuu..._ as breath, passing from him into Sayid's being as both air and sound.

Sayid felt Jacob's breath at his ear now like liquid swirling through him as an expanding wave, curling and dancing as liquid through liquid, an intimate current flowing from Jacob's inner state, profoundly relaxed and playful, with no limitations. _He is old, so old... My Jay..._

Sayid felt Jacob's love for him mixed with an endless joy, and Jacob's delight in awakening Sayid's consciousness with his own.

Then Sayid heard a divine tinkling sound at his ear, unbelievably beautiful. His ear felt as though it were expanding from the inside outward, opening his hearing to this subtle sound.

Jacob kissed him, and kissed his eyes, his cheeks, his hands. Sayid slipped deeper into Jacob's arms, slipping back under the waves of bliss as sleep.

**[CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE: A little more](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380842/)  
**

“What are we, Jacob?” Sayid asked finally, feeling all of Jacob's body so close, curled against him with obvious love and devotion. Sayid was amazed when Jacob actually answered his question.

“You must get stronger, my love, before I can show you what is next... what it all means.”

“Show me a little,” Sayid prompted, hoping that Jacob would answer.

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	39. A little more

Sayid awoke slowly, first aware of the sounds of the wind strong outside, the smell of the coming rain. He felt Jacob still fast against him, curled around him, containing him. Foreheads together, he breathed in Jacob's breath, warm and close, then opened his eyes and found Jacob looking at him, his eyes so close.

They were eye to eye, expressionless faces, waiting for what was next.

 _It could be anything_ , Sayid thought. _We can be anything._ He felt completely free. _He is waiting for me, h_ _e will follow my lead._

Sayid brought his hand to Jacob's face, moving his own back a little, watching Jacob's face as he cupped it with his hand, loving Jacob's eyes closing with pleasure as Sayid stroked his face lovingly, Jacob's neck moving so easily as he pulled Jacob's cheek against his own, encircling his body with his arms, as Jacob encircled him.

Then Sayid rolled back a little in the bed, feeling his body still weak, but his mind clear, his voice still his own.

"Eat this," Jacob said, unwrapping a foil covered bite of chocolate truffle for him. Sayid let him put it in his mouth, amazed by an explosion of delicious dark chocolate with the slight bite of bitterness filling his senses, his eyes widening, causing Jacob to laugh.

Sayid sucked on the remains of the chocolate, eyes closed, his face contorting with pleasure. He opened his eyes again to Jacob's happy smile. He saw in Jacob's smile a happiness that went with something that Jacob had waited for, that was a long time in coming.

“My Jay...' Sayid began. "You gave me a gift, something very precious,” his voice was quiet and close. “I think it means, that we can always be together. I do wish to have this with you...”

Jacob curled in pleasure at these words, and became very soft, gentle and shy, still following Sayid's lead, allowing Sayid to take him into his new life as he wished, in any way that he chose.

“What are we, Jacob?” Sayid asked finally, feeling all of Jacob's body so close, curled against him with obvious love and devotion. Sayid was amazed when Jacob actually answered his question.

“You must get stronger, my love, before I can show you what is next... what it all means.”

“Show me a little,” Sayid prompted, hoping that Jacob would answer.

Jacob smiled, and Sayid was amazed again as Jacob acquiesced, nodding his head slightly. _He will follow my lead..._ Sayid thought. _There is nothing else. We are starting again._

Sayid's eyes widened. _Ohh, he's going to....._ Sayid thought as Jacob pulled his hand from under the covers, then up to Sayid's eyes, covering them.

The rushing wind with sprays of rain on his naked skin came into Sayid's consciousness before Jacob took his hand from Sayid's eyes. They sat at a great height, with immense mountains falling down and away to the sea visible on all sides, the rain clouds far below them teasing with an occasional ripple of rain on the searching wind, arriving in tiny, exhilarating sprinkles as fine as mist against their skin.

Sayid turned, and saw the smaller island behind them to the east, its shroud of mist transparent to him, so that he could easily see the ridges and beaches, the thick jungle and rosy spires of rock. All around them, long ripples of wind blown rain rippled from the clouds down to the sea.

Sayid looked at Jacob, who reached to him, taking his hand, holding it beside him as they sat. They sat naked upon a stone in the rough shape of a large seat, with arms and a back, and room enough for both of them. _Just room enough for two..._ Sayid thought, and Jacob smiled. Sayid looked around again, and found that there was no way up to this seat, or down again.

“I will show you...” Jacob said, and Sayid understood him to mean that he was to eventually show him how to _go_ in this way, to travel.

“A little more, my love...” Sayid asked, wondering if Jacob would teach him now.

Jacob thought for several moments, then came to a decision, nodding. He lifted his hand to Sayid's eyes, and this time Sayid felt something inside that went with traveling outside of time or distance.

Sayid smelled the wet earth and heard the forest sounds as Jacob took away his hand. He knew that they were on the small island. They were standing at the bank of a little stream, swollen and rushing from the rain. Upstream Sayid could make out a change in the jungle to a thick bamboo forest, swaying vigorously in the breeze. It made a certain whispering sound that Sayid always loved. Then he looked downstream and saw that the stream disappeared into a dark opening in the rock.

Jacob took Sayid's hand and put it on his heart, looking into Sayid's eyes for a moment before he shut his own. Sayid felt the warmth beginning in Jacob's breast, then traveling down his arm into his own heart, which glowed in him, loosening his perception in a strange way.

He saw then that the opening in the rock was glowing. It was a beautiful golden light that was intoxicating and somehow intensely familiar, though he couldn't say why.

The men stood in this way, gazing at the beautiful light.

"What is it," Sayid whispered at last.

"It is the source," Jacob replied with reverence, also in a whisper.

"...of everything?" Sayid somehow knew this.

"Yes," Jacob said. "And it is who we are," he added.

Sayid was silent, troubled. _He will ask now_ , Jacob thought.

"Is it... also your brother?" 

"Yes," Jacob said.

"You say that he is the gatekeeper. But how could he do.... that, if he is one with the Island, with this place that is the source?"

"You will learn soon," Jacob said. As Jacob reached his hand slowly, Sayid stood still with his eyes closed, becoming almost accustomed to this magical moment of traveling with no travel. 

Sayid opened his eyes, finding the landscape that went with a great upsurge of wind and the patterned spray of rapidly rising rain. They stood on a wide ledge, with views of several lower ridges in different directions, and at the end of a ridge on the far right, a little beach. Beyond was a great semicircle of rounded ocean to the horizon, broken in the west by the larger island. Jacob watched Sayid without turning to him. Sayid was clearly awed and Jacob smiled. 

"The small island..." Sayid said, looking at Jacob.

"Yes." Jacob said.

Sayid turned around to inspect the large, shady ledge, and looked up the steep mountain slope in which it was an indentation, the peak of which was out of view.

His eyes came to rest now on the archway in the stone face of a this high mountain ridge. The arch was carved similar to the entrance to their own temple home. He looked at Jacob, who was standing with eyes closed. Jacob seemed to be accomplishing something inside, as though reaching out in some way.

When he opened his eyes, he took Sayid's hand firmly with both of his hands. “Do not be afraid, my love,” he said.

Sayid looked at the archway with a sudden, overwhelming fascination and fear, standing absolutely still as though nothing happened, as though he saw nothing, when as if in slow motion, a figure appeared in the archway, naked as they were also, then stood perfectly still with no emotion at all on his face, his eyes locked with Sayid's.

 _He is waiting_... Sayid thought as he stared at the brother, who stood gazing back at him. And still they all stood there, the rain cascading through Sayid's hair, over his face, his shoulders and body, until at last Jacob turned Sayid away, gently placing his hand over his eyes.

Sayid smelled incense and opened his eyes. Jacob was ringing out his hair on the steps of the temple. Then he led Sayid inside with great gentleness. Sayid felt numb inside as he felt the bed still warm, the silken covers gentle on his wet and cool skin as they lay next to each other in the bed once again.

[ **CHAPTER FORTY: The greatest test**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380878/)

“Sayee, my love...” Jacob began, thrilled by the look of love in Sayid's eyes as Jacob spoke to him as his lover. He began again, as the teacher. “Sayid... My Sayid. You have damaged yourself with evil."

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	40. The greatest test

Jacob was sitting at his desk. It had been some time since he closed his journal, sliding his pen into the binding. He took the leather pouch he often wore from around his neck and set it on top of the journal, then swiveled the chair to face Sayid.

Sayid sat up on the bed, swinging his feet to the floor, yawning. He looked at Jacob, who was doing nothing. _He has a look_ , Sayid thought with interest.

“Tell me,” Sayid said.

Jacob looked at Sayid, who immediately felt a tickle in the center of his body, near his stomach.

 _This is his answer?_ he thought impatiently. Then he closed his eyes, willing himself to follow the sensation, to be taught by it.

“What is this place, Sayid?” Jacob asked. Sayid felt nothing there, a place of numbness, and wondered that he had never felt this place in himself before. He opened his eyes, and saw that Jacob was satisfied with him, silent again, watching him struggle.

 _Damn these guessing games._ Sayid indulged in his frustration for a moment. _My lover thinks he is fucking Socrates._ He almost laughed, picturing a white-haired Jacob dressed in a toga, questioning his mystified students, who must learn from his questions. Then Sayid laughed at himself, for he rarely cursed in English, and wasn't very good at it.

Sayid grimaced and laughed at the same time.

Jacob smiled his usual mild little smile.

“You are a cross between Socrates and Mona Lisa,” Sayid observed, adding a very serious insult in Iraqi Arabic.

“My mother thanks you,” Jacob said with the same mild look of innocence. Sayid pouted, then gave up, then pouted again. _Always this._ _He knows, but does not tell me_ _._

"What is it, Jacob?"

Jacob looked at Sayid, wanting so much to help him, to reward his ability to reveal his inner struggle, something new. And still he sat, his elbow on the desk, his other hand on his knee.

Sayid waited. _Will he say more if I am silent, or if I ask?_ he thought, a familiar predicament.

Jacob was satisfied that Sayid had decided to wait until he chose to speak, and was open to whatever might be next.

“Sayee, my love...” Jacob began, thrilled by the look of love in Sayid's eyes as Jacob spoke to him as his lover. He began again, as the teacher. “Sayid... My Sayid. You have damaged yourself with evil."

There was a long moment, and Sayid felt a chill, thinking of the place of numbness.

Sayid spoke suddenly, fully surprising himself. “And what of your brother, is he not evil?”

Jacob answered the challenge immediately. "My brother protects the Island, he protects what is good. Yours is the only evil he has ever done to you. You have used yourself for evil, Sayid. You have allowed others to use your evil for their own purposes.”

Sayid knew exactly what he had done, the array of things done for evil. He thought of the DIA man, the larger than life military spook who spoke Arabic after all, who had left him used up, empty and homeless in his own desert after Sayid had learned to torture for him. Sayid had believed the prisoners he tortured to be responsible for the horrifying deaths of his people, men, women, children... all gassed, laying dead where they stood. Still... he was not sure, asking himself... _Why was I so easy to use?_

Then there was Ben, one of the Others the survivors eventually discovered living on the other side of the Island. Sayid had made use of his skills to torture Ben when he was discovered to have infiltrated the survivor's camp right after the plane crash that had stranded them here. How did Sayid come to work with Ben, a miserable, evil man who had sought him out when they were both off Island, using Sayid to kill his enemies. Sayid had believed them to be responsible for the death of his wife, but he still did not know if this was even partly true. He had been driven by his grief, his cold anger and bitterness cast on the world with no certainty as to whom or why. He had been robbed by life. _I will do the robbing,_ he had decided. And so, he robbed others of their lives, again and again.

When he had buried his wife, Ben was there. And now that Sayid had somehow crashed on this island, he had found Ben here as well. He came from the Others, and he had returned to them. He was here long before Sayid, and had his own designs, ones that easily included murder, something Sayid had become very good at. 

When Ben was done with him, he found himself empty and alone, used up and left behind. A torturer, and now a killer, with no purpose. _Why was I so easy to use?_ He still did not know. 

Jacob was still watching him, waiting.

"Tell me...” Sayid prompted. 

“You have accomplished so much, Sayid. You have replaced the decisions of a child with new ones, and can live now without a constant preparation for violence.”

Sayid held Jacob's gaze, happy to be so well understood by his lover.

"But you are compromised, Sayid. You do not have your integrity, a place to stand, to choose freely in life. You are still enslaved by evil. Faced with the greater test, you will still choose evil to address evil.”

 _That is why I was so easy to use...._ Sayid thought. _I chose evil to address evil..._

“Evil takes more than it gives. It has its price. There is a place inside of you that is deadened by this exchange. It is a loss and a debt to yourself that cannot be repaid, a place that can only be awakened and answered by more evil. That is why evil enslaves.”

Sayid felt sure that he understood, but also found that he was no longer concerned about his old life. His spirit was soaring, he was made new in love. He was sure that he had moved on, and that he could make up for these mistakes by his new choices.

“I am _good_ , Jacob,” he stated simply.

“You have both good and evil in great measure, Sayid. But you cannot be for the Island with this place still inside you.”

“This is all a lot of effort about something I have long left behind,” Sayid complained.

Jacob seemed prepared for this answer. “That is why you must know him, Sayid."

_That's what this is about. The brother..._

Jacob continued. "I cannot teach you about this... as I could not free you before...” Sayid knew he spoke of his brother's violence. "You must accept him and go with him, if he asks you to."

 _“My Jay..."_ Sayid pleaded, alarmed. "I want only you, I do not want him at all.” 

“You must learn from us both, Sayid."

Sayid sat, looking at the floor, struggling with his obvious desire to avoid the brother, and his self-righteous indignation about being asked to do otherwise. "Tell me why, Jay..." Sayid asked.

"Do you want me, my Sayid? The Island will find and reject this dark place in you, and you cannot have me without the Island.”

Sayid felt unable to accept as teacher a man who had raped and brutalized him, no matter who that man was related to, or what he served in this world.

"He might take me away with him?"

Jacob nodded.

“What if I say no then, or now?” He asked. _I need to know this..._

“You will find yourself again in a world where we are forever apart, my love,” Jacob said. He was silent again.

 _This is damned hard, and so I will make it easy,_ Sayid thought. _I will please my beloved, and meet his cruel brother, and..._

“How long...?” he asked Jacob, hoping for at least this much to go on.

“My love...” Jacob began.

“You do not know,” Sayid answered himself. Jacob was silent. _Damned hard, and easy..._

“My Jacob. Whatever it takes, I am yours,” Sayid felt his willingness flowing, his indignation flowing away, replaced by a freely chosen submission to his love, more powerful than any other emotion. Jacob took a deep breath, relieved. 

_I will do what it takes to survive this, and put it behind me,_ Sayid thought, settling into his decision. 

“How can I find you if I need you, Jay.... If we are away from you?” he asked, his voice soft, full of longing, willing that Jacob would answer. _Please... Jacob... I need at least this._

“If you ask him, he will bring us together.”

Sayid was silent for a few moments more, being sure of his decision. “I will,” he said at last. _For you_... _I will_. Sayid's heart was already breaking, for if they must part, he did not know when he would be with his Jay again.

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-ONE: The burden** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380902/)

Jacob knew the purposeful sound of a single step scuffed, a soft echo in the temple, and stood as the familiar silhouette appeared at the arched entry. Sayid also stood, feeling a close sobriety translated by discipline into a profound calm.


	41. The burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **_Dear reader:_ This story is a work of fiction involving characters who are more than human, with transformative powers. Sayid's ability to reconcile with the man who raped him is FICTION. In reality, such a reconciliation would most likely be impossible and undesirable, or would take a very long time. It is important to honor this as the truth of the people who experience rape in reality, which is 100 percent different from fiction.**

# BOOK THREE: James

Jacob knew the purposeful sound of a single step scuffed, a soft echo in the temple, and stood as the familiar silhouette appeared at the arched entry. Sayid also stood, feeling a close sobriety translated by discipline into a profound calm.

“My brother...” Jacob greeted the brother warmly.

Sayid felt something slowly crashing within him, blasting out through the margins of who he was, clouding his being with unmeasureable pain and fear.

“My brother...” the man answered. They embraced for several moments, a press of relief and reunion. Then the brother turned his eyes to Sayid, easily finding his gaze. Sayid feeling himself fully alert, was confused that he felt no fear or anger towards this man, whom he had only known in the form of Jacob and an act of supreme violence. _His eyes..._ he thought. _I remember your_ _eyes_. _It was you_. 

Sayid stood up, taking a defensive posture, holding the brothers gaze with his own. He expected his memories of immense fear and pain to overwhelm him. It was by instinct that he desperately sought to delve into that place, the place of inhuman coldness that he had made in himself when he was a soldier and a torturer, when he was an assassin for Ben. But that hardness in him seemed to have fallen away within him, coming apart, dissolving away. He knew then that this evil part of himself had been transformed by the brother. The pain that remained was immense, but it was bearable. He could contain it.

_His eyes_... Sayid began to really see the brother, and found a profound sadness there, but also hope of relief. _He brings his sadness to Jacob._

The brother looked back at Jacob, and Sayid took stock of him as he he seemed to communicate silently to Jacob. He was of a stockier build, a little taller than Jacob, more muscular, with brown hair and blue eyes. Whereas Jacob seemed to always be privately smiling, the brother seemed to wear a face of knowing what others did not. His manner was quietly defended, as though he was burdened by a change in his nature, controlling an easy access to menace. 

Sayid looked to Jacob then, watching to see what changed in him, wanting to know who the brother was to Jacob. _Jacob is comforting him,_ Sayid decided.

Finally the brother turned back to Sayid. Sayid noticed at once the change in the brother's posture.

"You still have it," the brother said.

Sayid was startled by his voice, which was both resigned and fierce, and completely new to him. "Never have I found it to go so deep. I will have to finish it."

"Finish what?" Sayid remained calm. He sought information.

"Evil, Sayid. You have evil. You chose it. It's yours."

Sayid again controlled a memory of the immense suffering he endured at the hands of this man. _So painful..._ he thought. Then, _he is right._ _He forced me to pay the debt_ , _and it was immense. Torture... murder._ Sayid closed his eyes, containing the horror, the buried memory of what he had done, what he had learned to do. It had taken all these years to even begin to soften himself again, to acknowledge the partition around his memories, to begin the task of finding and softening his heart.

"I cannot think how this debt could not be finished," Sayid said, his voice strident. "You almost destroyed me," he confessed, his voice audibly breaking. 

"I can begin with your evil, and also finish it, Sayid, because I can _see_ you, the things inside of you.

Sayid was quiet then, unable to guess what this exactly meant.

It was quiet then. The brother moved to the desk chair, and Jacob settled into the reading chair beneath the windows. Sayid had returned to sitting on the side of the bed, processing all that had happened in the last few moments. _Somehow it is all healing in me, what I did all those years, what this man did to me. It has been greatly healed, and I didn't know it until now._

Still quiet. The brothers seemed to await that which was next between them. Sayid felt a strange relaxation in them, with no indication as to what might happen. He sat with the two brothers, now idly but carefully observing. He guessed that the two were so intimate that talking was not required most of the time. They were each relaxed, lost in thought, gazing in a different direction, which made it easy for Sayid to do so as well.

Sayid looked at the brother's hands, clean and cared for. He looked at the brother's feet. He wore rough sandals, and his feet were calloused, but seemed very well cared for as well. As a soldier, the state of a man's feet told Sayid a lot about the man. A soldier without his feet was useless. This man valued his strength and autonomy, and was disciplined in his physical self-care.

Sayid looked at the man's pants, which were off-island made, but were stained, and ragged around the bottom edges. This in contrast to Jacob's pants, which he hemmed up or patched when they were ragged, and who was careful to keep them clean with as few washings as possible, getting the most wear from his clothes.

_Jacob usually cares for the brother's clothes, as he now cares for mine,_ Sayid thought. _It is painful for Jacob to see the brother unkempt_. This led him to believe that something had driven them apart recently. _The dark task, his violence against me_ , Sayid thought.

Finally, the brother shifted on his chair, then got up casually and walked to Jacob's loom, admiring the emerging pattern as one who had not looked at it recently. The brothers still acted as if they were alone, with a natural privacy between them. Sayid had never known this aspect of Jacob, and it helped him now to understand why Jacob did not answer him most of the time. Jacob took for granted the privacy to not respond or even engage unless he wished to. Sayid remained very curious as he watched them both, near to each other, finding the long way to each other, it seemed.

At last Jacob stood, and walked to the brother, and stood next to him at the loom. He put his hand on the brother's shoulder. The brother seemed to crave this touch, and also struggle with accepting it. Finally he managed to shake off his tense stance as Jacob rubbed his shoulder slightly. Then Jacob stepped behind the brother. He put is forehead on the brother's back, then put his arms around him, his cheek against the brother's back, his face visible to Sayid as he hugged him with eyes closed. The brother tilted his head back slightly, and closed his eyes. He took a long breath, a sigh of relief, resting one hand on Jacob's hands clasped at his stomach. He took another long breath, breathing it slowly out as he relaxed into Jacob's embrace.

Sayid could see that Jacob's facial expression was one of strong emotion, of relief and a deep caring. It thrilled him to see this part of Jacob, to experience watching Jacob's feelings for another. 

They stood entwined for some time, until the brother moved very slightly, and Jacob slid his arms away. The brother turned, and they stood eye to eye. The brother's face had softened, his eyes gentle with relief and love. Then to Sayid's amazement, Jacob took the brother's hand as they brought their lips together, tentative, searching a way to be with each other, then deeper in a gentle, sensuous kissing, the brother a little taller, with his hands on Jacob's shoulders, and Jacob with his arms around the brother's back. The kiss did not seem sexual to Sayid.

Finally, Sayid started to think logically again, and considered whether he should leave them alone, and perhaps find something to do outside.

At that moment Jacob stopped, turning to look at Sayid with a look of pure love and desire that made Sayid forget his confusion, wanting only to stay close to his beloved, waiting only for his direction.

“It is okay,” the brother said at Jacob's ear. Sayid was startled to hear a again the unfamiliar voice. Jacob moved his eyes from Sayid to the swivel desk chair, which was facing the bed.

Sayid got up and quietly moved to the desk. The brothers casually removed their clothes, leaving them where they slipped off and onto the floor. Sayid gazed at the larger man, his ample dark chest and belly hair, broad shoulders, and skin that was pale compared to Jacob's golden skin and his golden blond hair on his chest and belly, arms and legs. The brother's penis nestled in a thicket of black hair and was uncircumcised, similar to Jacob's.

Jacob threw the covers back and waited for his brother. Neither man had an erection, and as they climbed into the bed and nestled into each other's arms, Sayid could see that they were reconciling somehow, and that this was a very sweet relief to them both, entirely nonsexual.

Sayid watched Jacob, savoring every moment, noticing some jealousy, but most of all a fascination for learning more about his love, things that he could not learn in any other way.

After a time, Jacob moved up onto his knees and straddled the brother, who remained on his side, facing Sayid. He lay on the brother, putting all of his weight onto him, resting his chin on the brother's shoulder. He then began tracing the brother's hair back over his ear, over and over, with great tenderness. The brother responded by curling a little tighter against himself, relaxing into the pleasure and sensation of being petted.

“I love you,” Jacob said quietly near his ear. “I love you...” over and over, in the sweetest, gentle tones of pure love. The brother seemed to relax completely, drifting away inside, allowing his defenses to fall at last.

When the brother opened his eyes, Jacob was immediately still, waiting. A whisper in the silence, the brother's eyes moved, then his lips moved as well.

“Jacob...” the brother said. _“Say my name...”_

Jacob closed his eyes briefly, his face glad, then whispered close at his ear, “I love you, I love you... James, my Jaimie... I love you _Jay_ .” James closed his eyes, and his entire body changed from the container of an inner burden to the means for external release. He began to cry, his body shaking slightly.

_T_ _hey have the same affectionate nickname ... The same name, as well..._ for Sayid knew that James and Jaimie came from the Latin version of Jacob, the name Jacob from the Old Testament, or Ya'qub in the Qu'ran.

“James... my brother,” Jacob spoke to him with affection. “I love you my Jay...” James remained on his side, his eyes mostly closed, looking down as he let his tears run one by one into the bed sheets.

Jacob sat up a little and looked at Sayid with a knowing look of love and kinship. He motioned to Sayid to come sit on the bed. Sayid could not guess what was happening, but followed Jacob's direction. All hatred and suspicion was gone, replaced by Sayid's concern for his beloved's brother. 

Jacob motioned for Sayid to lay next to James, turning towards him. Jacob slid behind James facing his back. Reaching to Sayid, Jacob took his hand and gently placed it on James' shoulder.

James opened his eyes, and Sayid gazed into those eyes, feeling as though he was tilting away from himself somehow, drifting in a gentle place of love, and the sweet need for love.

“Sayid, this is my brother, James. James, this is my lover, Sayid.”

James took Sayid's hand from his shoulder, and kissed it. “My brother,” he said. 

Sayid felt his eyes widen with understanding. _He does everything for Jacob,_ he realized, beginning to understand how much he sacrificed for love.

“My brother,” Sayid answered, bringing James' hand to his own lips, the hand of the one who most loved his beloved. 

Suddenly Sayid understood why the brother had come to him as Jacob, in the form of Jacob. His appearance was completely new to Sayid. It was easier for him to separate the violence from the man, for he knew now that he in all ways—and in that act of violence against Sayid—acted as directed by his brother, Jacob.

"What you have done to me... is what you have done to yourself," Sayid said. "Violence, to vanquish violence."

_It is true_ , the brother said with his eyes.

Sayid was baffled when Jacob squeezed the brother, smiling sweetly at Sayid, then climbed off like a boy jumping down from a playful perch, and set about preparing their meal.

Sayid got up, feeling a calm coming over him that he welcomed. He sat in the desk chair, and James sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, watching Jacob with expectant hunger. Jacob brought the tray of food over to his little stool, placing flasks of water near to it, then took his own meal to the reading chair beneath the windows. Sayid noticed when the brothers seemed to begin eating at the exact same moment.

Jacob had harvested and boiled some wild rice, a delicious nutty flavor that made the same old fish taste almost new. They used the special leaves as plates and ate with their fingers, dripping lemon juice onto the fish with its rub of garlic and herbs, dabbing in the pickled mangoes and little mound of sea salt Jacob served with special meals. Sayid observed the subtleties of the brothers' movements, noting that the brothers ate in a similar way, and seemed to finish at the same exact moment, both licking their fingers when they were done. Sayid wondered how many of Jacob's idiosyncrasies, things he had assumed were unique to Jacob, were actually shared by both brothers.

Sayid still felt that he knew the man not at all, as though they were meeting him for the first time. _Perhaps he was... a different creature then, when he was with me..._ he thought, trying to solve the puzzle. Sayid realized that Jacob was also watching him, assessing his reaction. For a brief moment their eyes met, and Sayid could see reassurance in his eyes and in Jacob's posture.

Sayid managed to eat, but he was intensely curious. He felt comfortable with the brother's presence, but still could not guess why. He realized that eating together had reinforced a feeling of kinship and safety.

_My Jacob is so wise..._ he thought, feeling safe and secure in his Jacob's purpose and care as he munched happily on the delicious food.

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-TWO: Tomorrow** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380920/)

Sitting together in the peaceful quiet, Sayid asked himself the only question unanswered, the one he thought had mattered most, even though he felt somehow that it did not matter anymore.

"Jacob?"


	42. Tomorrow

Two brothers lay on the bed, digesting their meal. Their silent company with each other reminded Sayid of such moments as a boy, watching the clouds, a special camaraderie.

Sayid remained seated at the desk, feeling that as usual he had no idea what would happen next.

Finally the two brothers began to talk, and Sayid listened with pleasure as his Jacob talked with someone else. Jacob told James about some mischief “the people” had gotten into, and how he hoped that he had taught them a lesson. The brother snorted and reminded Jacob how many times they had done this over the years, laughing and greatly entertained as Jacob related the part that made this time special.

Jacob told the brother about the men that came ashore, and how he had shown them to Sayid, and revealed their role in protecting the Island from those that would exploit it. Sayid felt proud as Jacob praised his willingness to learn, his dedication to each task. Then Jacob drew Sayid into the conversation, mentioning his love of maps and his recent work on understanding the part of the Island that was below water. Sayid felt James' approving eyes on him as he described his work, and Jacob as well, and felt a happy satisfaction that he wanted to feel again and again.

The sun was going down, and the sounds of night came closer, more intimate on the cooling air.

Sitting together in the peaceful quiet, Sayid asked himself the only question unanswered, the one he thought had mattered most, even though he felt somehow that it did not matter anymore.

“Jacob...?” he ventured, his voice clear and calm in the darkened room.

“Tomorrow, my love,” Jacob answered, and Sayid was still. _Tomorrow then..._

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-THREE: Three brothers** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380944/)

_Only one of them can embrace evil,_ Sayid thought, taking up the realization he had before sleep, his sudden understanding about the two brothers and their relationship, their symbiosis. _James is the one who transforms evil. And he does so out of his love for Jacob._

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	43. Three brothers

Three brothers slept through the night curled together in a large bed, wrapped in silken sheets and the bonds of love. Every so often they partially awakened and lovingly hugged and caressed each other, turning and moving against each other before slipping back into contented sleep.

Sayid awakened alone when it was deepest night, watching the shadows of the trees outside dance in the room, traced by moonlight from the waning moon high in the west. He listened to the two brothers beside him, breathing together, deep and alive, united in sleep.

 _Only one of them can embrace evil,_ Sayid thought, taking up the realization he had before sleep, his sudden understanding about the two brothers and their relationship, their symbiosis. _James is the one who transforms evil. And he does so out of his love for Jacob._

It seemed that the brothers were sometimes parted by evil in a subtle way that required James to become a stranger, even nameless for a time. Then he must find his way back to Jacob, to Jacob's love for him. Sayid felt the power of Jacob's love woven throughout himself now, and knew that Jacob's love could easily conquer a rift that might divide the brothers when one of them was touching and dancing with evil.

 _I have been touched by this place in him_ , he thought, trying to remember what James had done to him, and trying to understand how he might have done it for Jacob. James had become the darkness that consumed him as a boy, his entire world. He had preyed on Sayid as an evil creature, dark and cruel. And now Sayid was amazed to find that James had done this at great cost to himself, an unbearable time of separation from his brother and love, Jacob.

_Only one brother could search through the pain and self-hatred of my rape. Now he will do the same with me as a torturer and a murderer._

This must be the pain, the burden he had seen in James' eyes. The brother's nature remained more fluid. He was never complete; a bridge between light and darkness. 

_Jacob also bears a burden,_ Sayid thought. _Jacob's burden is... indebtedness. Jacob is always indebted to James, who carries the greater burden for them both_.

Sayid turned in the bed to look at the two brothers, curled together as one. _What are they...?_ He still did not know. They called him brother, now, and he felt it to be true.

 _Two brothers whose lives are entirely about good and evil, light and dark._ _Two brothers and an Island, a very old story that somehow involves me._

Sayid still could not guess his role in this story. He lived now by faith, a faith that he could not have without his love for Jacob. 

_And so..._ This was the essential part of it all. The love they shared with Jacob.

Sayid slipped from the bed just before dawn and moved soundlessly through their home, feeling the sweet energy of the temple follow him out, down the steps and up the little path, loving the morning air, mild and gentle on his skin, whisper soft on his genitals. He turned and stepped carefully into the dense under foliage and trees where the wild area began, enjoying the view of the morning sky above him. He stretched as he pissed, feeling the muscles in his pelvis stretching and relaxing in a pleasurable way, his balls pulling up tight as his penis danced up and down slightly. He shook the last drops, then walked back to the temple entrance. He touched the floor as he entered, something Jacob often did, a way of accepting grace.

He heard Jacob's whistle behind him and turned to see Jacob returning from his ritual bath, his movements so slow and relaxed, smiling and reaching to Sayid for a kiss and a long hug before they went back up the steps and through the temple together. Jacob dressed quickly and returned to the temple immediately, and the low sounds of mantras combined with the fragrant smoke from burning _dhoop_ soon drifted into the room, so that Sayid felt himself swaying slightly, almost swooning from the sensual pleasure of sound and fragrance as worship.

James was still in bed, his back to Sayid, his breath that of sleep. Sayid felt a strange pleasure in watching him sleep, of standing over him. He felt the impulse to join him in bed, and lifted the covers, sliding onto the sheets next to him. He rolled towards James, and after a few moments, touched his shoulder tentatively. Soon James reached to take Sayid's hand as he rolled onto his back. He smiled and yawned, then puffed the pillow up under his head and gazed at Sayid with a generous warmth. Sayid sat up a little, and returned his gaze. James' eyes were clear and relaxed, with no sign of his pain or struggles from the night before.

“Well, my pupil. What evil business have you been up to today?” James asked.

Sayid was taken aback. He thought of his past as something that he had made a clean break from, and something very serious, something he had never joked about. But he also saw the sparkle of humor in James eyes and relaxed into his challenge.

"I'm still looking for some evil for today," he said, with a smile. Sayid noticed immediately that he was drawn to this banter, these elements of power shifting between them.

"I could use an excuse to use you again, if you've got any real evil left in you," James offered, still gazing directly at Sayid.

Sayid was instantly hot, feeling his fire, his eyes dark as he sat up, his posture guarded as he controlled the impulse to strike James, to stop his words, to make him hurt.

James waited for Sayid to fully register his anger, to guage its intensity. "What will you do to me, now that it is your turn, Sayid?"

"Roll over and I'll show you,” Sayid thought to joke, but heard the threat and surge of fire in his voice.

James' eyes got larger as he playfully exaggerated a feigned concern about Sayid's threat.

“Show me,” James taunted. After another moment of charged eye contact, he rolled over, kicking the covers off, rounding the pillow under his chest, clearly quite serious.

Sayid stopped, and was amazed to find that he was actually considering violently fucking James, fulfilling a delicious need for revenge. He traced James' long, arching back with his fingers, and felt his desire for him. He enjoyed this, looking at James' back, as it gave him a feeling of power. _His back is less confusing to me,_ he thought, wincing at the memory of him in Jacob's form. _He was there... this man... the one who raped me._

Sayid felt his feelings becoming more violent, adding to his arousal. Sayid craved retaliation. This was the fire, the strength he had drawn upon to force his way through the world when everyone around him was falling, crushed by the chaos of war.

 _No._ He separated himself from his feelings and sat back on the bed, struggling to make a rational choice. He had never raped before, and this was too close. _I will not do this,_ he thought, closing his eyes. _I do not need revenge,_ he told himself, squeezing his erect penis, silencing the deeper ache, the hidden place of denied need.

James rolled swiftly onto his side, facing Sayid, and in an instant grasped him by his hair, pulling his head towards him. Sayid was completely surprised, but did not entirely resist, trying to understand what was happening. _"Is this what you want, whore...?"_ James spat the hated words at Sayid, forcing Sayid's head towards his cock. Sayid's mind was flooded with the memory of the Uncle's face contorted with hate at his cheek as he pushed Sayid down, a crumpled boy bearing the weight of a man on his aching back, the weight that became the hated sensation of defeat, the same hated feelings he relived when he had born the weight of James as he used him.

Sayid was suddenly fierce and fully charged with a sexualized need for retribution. _It is only what he did to me..._ He climbed in one motion onto James' back, then grasped James' hair and jerked his head back sharply, forcing his fingers into James' mouth, fucking his mouth with his fingers as he ground his penis into James' back.

"I will show you," he said without shame or regret.

Sayid could remember now, his face pressed into the sand, his face covered with snot and the blood from biting his own mouth, the salt in his sweat and tears stinging his eyes and his face where it was torn.

 _“You fucking whore-bastard,”_ he hissed at James' ear in Arabic. He knew then that he was going to do it. _I'm going to do it._ He pulled James' hips up and humped hard against them, his full-on erection sensitive and already craving release. He ground is cock hard against James hips, then pushed him flat again, sitting on top of him, pushing James' face into the bed. He pushed down on James' shoulder with his other hand, jumping slightly, mashing his face down into the bedding, feeling the tension in James' body as he fought the fear of suffocation.

 _“Is this what you want?”_ he growled at James' ear as he pulled him up again, and fucked against James' back with his hips and erection, slamming against him, pulling him up and back by his shoulders, hitting him over and over with his body.

 _I'm going to do this..._ he thought as he spit into his hand and grasped his erection, sliding the tip down to the right place and angle, then began to force his way into James, who grunted his urgent complaint, his pain. Sayid remembered the pain as James' had entered him dry, the violent way he had used him, the bonds slicing into his wrists as he felt himself going under, lost in the defeat he vowed to never accept again. _Never..._

 _“What are you going to teach me about evil,”_ Sayid heard his voice sharp and low, the flood slipping past his control, feeling the craving touched by a surge of relief, the revenge becoming his, as hate became pleasure.

He relished his dominance as he fucked James hard, pushing up and striking hard against James with each stroke, forcing James' body up and then back on the bed. 

Sayid was fucking fast and hard, taking and taking his revenge. He fell onto James, covering him, shaking his head and growling and rubbing his face hard on James' back as he approached his release. He put his fingers back into James' mouth as he began to drive to the crest of his pleasure, fucking him quick as he groaned long, coming and coming to his peak so that he called out, grasping and pulling at James, still moving with savage pushes and jerks until he slipped out and fell onto his back next to James, panting and spent.

James stayed on his stomach, his face in his arm. They were together, apart, and alone.

As Sayid's breathing slowed, the sound of his own breath slipped away. He felt much more than sexual release, and lay with his eyes closed as his mind was perfectly still and silent, his emotions settling deep and balanced. There was a strange silence behind the noise of the world around him, the birds, the waves... it was all made from a silence under the sounds like the vibration under a hum. He stayed with this silence for as long as it remained near... noticing when it gently slipped away.

He felt James roll over onto his side, facing him. Sayid did not move or open his eyes. He did not know yet what he would feel when he opened them.

“So, my Sayid..." James said calmly. “Tell me about how you became a torturer and a murderer.”

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR: Listening** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380956/) ****

He was blind, then he could see only _the doorway_ , gaping at the back of the remembered room, his room, the place of his work... the door that he never saw open, the black opening he kept behind him... _moving, coming towards him._

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	44. Listening

Sayid was ill. He rolled over and vomited onto the floor, heaving and gagging with very little to bring up before breakfast, his breath sounds desperate and heavy with misery.

He lay at the edge of the bed then... quiet, _listening_.

 _Where is Jacob?_ He ached for Jacob, a pain beyond needing him, every part of him craving his touch.

Sayid still had not opened his eyes. He felt as though he had just awakened, _listening_ , finding his place in a part of his day already in place without him. _Someone is dead because of me._

 _Listening_...

He felt a hand on his shoulder, steadying him, then pulling him slightly. Sayid rolled back towards James, who embraced him.

Rocking in the brother's arms, Sayid pushed his flat palms on his face, over his closed eyes. He began to cry, silently, a sudden desperate wailing, still silent, with few tears.

“ _What have I done.... what have I done...?”_ he cried at last into his hands, asking himself over and over, hearing these words from the past as he rolled away from James, again to the side of the bed, fighting reality, fighting who he was.

He opened his eyes then, needing to see his life here, but saw only _the old man_ , the one who haunted him. Sayid felt his own face wet, his tears flowing _now,_ as he saw only _then_... as he stood again over the old one who would not speak, who only grunted when Sayid's man tore his fingernails, grunted when at last Sayid took him up and broke him against the heavy desk, who grunted but would not speak when Sayid kicked him again and again on his broken legs.

Sayid _knew_ that the man was responsible for the deaths of his soldiers. _He is my enemy_... he told himself, unsettled by the man's silence. This one had valuable information that he could use to try to save himself, information that Sayid wanted. But this one.... he would not speak.

Sayid lost control in front of his men. He broke the man several times over, then turned away in disgust, killing the man without touching him.

Two of the soldiers stood and walked past Sayid, the man gasping as they lifted him, gasping as they dragged him away. Sayid could hear the man's breaths behind him, numbered, measured by the steps and the moments before they reached the other room, then silent when they stopped his misery.

 _What have I done...?_ he had asked himself, as he did each time, when he turned away at last, listening.

If he turned back towards them, pushing down on them, again, with new depths of pain, hopelessness, humiliation... If he turned away from them at last, listening for the moment when they were forever beyond his reach... it was always finished the same way. He stood savoring the cold burn of it, observing his own destruction, saw himself emptied, the warmth of his humanity flowing away as he fed himself to an advancing numbness, his inner fires cold, yet flickering higher as though he wasn't dying or already dead.

Every day he had more reasons to kill what was left of him at the center of this madness, the madness of war, and the only place he could see himself clearly, and know with certainty just what he was made of.

_Evil._

Sayid could hear himself, his sobs that became long aching moans as he was made to feel it all again.

“No...”he was begging, barely a whisper. He heard his voice pushing, suddenly taught as if forced through him, from him. “No...”

“ _Sayid...”_ a voice said at his ear. There were arms around him, he was not alone.

 _James._ He realized he was fighting against James, pushing him away.

“Sayid...” James said, grasping him tightly until Sayid relaxed and rested in James' arms, taking his comfort, so grateful for his embrace, feeling James' love for him.

“ _No... oh no...”_ he heard himself again, immediately lost inside, the horror splitting his heart, the pain flowing out, the worst pain just beginning.

He was blind, then he could see only _the doorway_ , gaping at the back of the remembered room, his room, the place of his work... the door that he never saw open, the black opening he kept behind him... _moving, coming towards him._

Sayid began a fierce struggle, and felt James' arms tight around him, containing him.

“ _No...”_ he called out, slipping inside, then limp and weak as the door enveloped him, the darkness of the doorway swallowing him like so many others before him.

And he could not stop it, he could not close his eyes.

The doorway he never acknowledged or touched seemed to open in one motion around him, and he saw inside, he could not look away. Bodies. Broken, bleeding, anguished faces, frozen with the terror, the terror of pain, of loved ones left behind. Jutting bones, hands clasped as though in prayer, begging for mercy. The tally of his work, no longer _this_ one, under him, behind him, never seen again. No longer the day's tally of his work hauled away to be burned. But the many made into pile after pile, counted and organized into a display of the reach of evil's hardened hand at work, easily grasping all who came near.

_Someone is dead because of me..._

“Sayid...” he heard his name. “Sayid...” It was James' voice, cool and light on the inner field of his pain and misery.

Sayid felt his lips moving, his tongue touching his teeth, his belly moving as he pushed the breath out... trying to form the words that went with his terror, his pain. _“Help me, James,”_ he whispered at last, sure of James' love for him. And Sayid felt the change so slight, the fractured moment when he let himself hope that he might escape this darkness inside of himself, the reality he carried hidden, a pressure underneath his every step, behind every word, gushing into his mind with the descent into sleep, pushed deeper by the desperate fear of dreaming.

Instantly all of it was gone. All of the darkness in him, his terror, his guilt, self-loathing and shame... moving through him, then gone. _Here_... he lay with eyes closed on the bed in James' arms, loving him, holding him tightly as he sighed and sighed, as his hurting was moving, rearranged, losing its sting, healing and settling into place, forming the pattern of a new wholeness.

Sayid felt... _new_. For the first time since childhood, he knew what it meant to be free.

_Listening..._

The sounds of the day drifted back into Sayid's consciousness. Outside the little windows, the tide was low, and the waves were soft, a gentle wash barely audible under the peaceful chatter of birds. He felt as love the familiar hum of a divine intelligence under everything, under it all.

Then he heard words, already made, hearing them _inside_ first. _I love James. I love him._

“I love you...” he whispered, opening his eyes. James' eyes... so close. They appeared to him as two magic vessels, pulling him into them, enveloping him as they became one, bobbing and floating away from the life he knew, his body curled in a little round boat made from love.

“I love you Sayid, my brother,” James said. Sayid moved so slightly, finding his body, and felt himself held and fully embraced by the one who loved his Beloved best.

 _“You have chosen me, Sayid Jarrah,”_ James said, moving his lips to Sayid's ear, almost whispering words somehow hypnotic, a pact and a promise... 

_“You_ _are mine.”_

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: One of a pair** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57380980/)

Sayid listened, felt himself emerging from _inside_ , where he had been held closely by so many feelings now slipping away. He noticed a very slight pulling and relaxing in James' feet, ankles and legs, and knew that he was feeling deep desire for him, a surging pleasure.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	45. One of a pair

James held Sayid close as he slipped back into a dreamless sleep, a long day's rest following the long night of his life, now adrift in nothing, fearing nothing, lost in the certainty of one who has been found.

When he awoke, Sayid found James' scent, so near and warm in the bedding, feeling his eyes stinging with the salt of his dried tears. He slipped from James' arms and sat on the edge of the bed, feeling emptied of his doubt and pain, looking around at every part of his world with new eyes.

 _Am I worthy of such love?_ He could not answer. He was loved, and he was transformed. He still didn't understand why.

He felt James slip in behind him, hugging him, reaching into his thoughts by rocking him softly. Sayid was still amazed that James was so loving, that the brothers were _so loving_ , beyond anything he had ever experienced in his life, with a man or a woman. It was this love that made him new.

“There is more work to be done, Sayid,” James said calmly. “Be happy, you have done well.”

“I am...... _soft_ ,” Sayid said, rubbing James' arms.

“You are so sweet, Sayid, and I love you,” James said. Sayid let his head fall back onto James' forehead, and put his hands on James' knees, rubbing them softly.

“I am happy.” Sayid said. He slipped his hand under his pillow, pulling his handkerchief up to his eyes, dabbing and washing the salt from them.

“Come, let us walk outside,” James prompted, shifting his weight on the bed. Sayid stood, dismayed by his vomit on the floor. He teetered on the edge of shame, and James' caught his arm, gently pulling Sayid against him. Sayid buried his face in the taller man's neck and shoulder, lost in his scent, loving James' hands rubbing up and down his back, then hugging him.

They turned and walked through the temple and out into the day, squinting and smiling in the sunlight as they walked up the path. Sayid felt his vision and hearing noticeably amplified, his skin so sensitive to the sunlight and the very slight movements of the breeze caressing him.

When the men returned, they stopped outside the temple entrance to stretch and look up at the treetops and the liquid blue sky organized by advancing clouds of white, balanced flat on the humid air like the hidden efforts of waterfowl swimming against the current. Sayid recalled viewing the unbroken horizon of ocean from the island heights, where the entire ocean had seeming playfully hidden under itself, the tiny white caps hinting at the compelling efforts of huge currents, of the largest of physical forces, exertions so large as to remain hidden.

Sayid turned to look at James, feeling his eyes widen a little as he compared the love of the two brothers with these natural forces, finding theirs to be the larger force by far, somehow rising from the heart of the island, far below the waves, where a secret world made these who made him... the brothers entirely visible to him, entirely mysterious, almost entirely unknown.

As they walked through the temple, Sayid caught the very subtle movement of James' hand, his fingers brought to his heart, his head slightly bowed.

James' immediately knelt to clean Sayid's vomit, and Sayid looked away, his mind wandering a little as he stood in front of the bookshelf, reading the familiar titles, not knowing what to do with himself, or what was next. James' gathered the items for a bath, and they walked to the little pool where Sayid lay back in the water, closing his eyes, feeling the flowing water slipping over him, caressing him as though it were a living being, carrying away what was left of his shame and self-hatred, soaking him only in the new.

They walked back slowly, sharing the unspoken intimacy of men, relaxed with each other, finding their purpose.

James' sat at the desk, gesturing towards the bed. Sayid sat, still wet and naked, gazing at James, who lifted his foot to search for, then pull a thorn from his foot. His skin was pink and moist, with a few little drops that slid down his muscular chest and arms, disappearing into the black hair below his belly. James sat back and lifted his eyes to gaze back at Sayid, his body perfectly still, his eyes unflinching and perfectly focused on Sayid's for several long moments.

“James...” Sayid ventured, having learned to recognize the best moments to seek answers from Jacob.

“He is elsewhere. It is our time to be alone together,” James' answered, his tone that of reassurance and casual concern.

Sayid's longing was a deep, physical ache that reached through him, needing, seeking all that he knew as Jacob. Sayid looked down at his lap, grasping his knees, his elbows bowed outwards. He felt a strange combination of exhilaration and confusion, his body and spirit way ahead of his mind, it seemed. He shook his head back and forth slightly, the drops of water falling from his hair, focusing on the moment, hungry for what was next, and next, and then... to run back into his Jacob's arms.

“We will be together for some time, Sayid. Settle into your time with me. Trust me, Sayid. That is how to enjoy each other, to make a place for each other in our hearts.”

Sayid found himself thrilled at these words, yet also felt the familiar slight bristling inside of himself that came up with James, who talked to him as though he did not know what was most important to know.

 _Should I ask?_ Sayid thought. Jacob never answered this question. _  
_

James smiled, catching Sayid's eye again.

“James... What is happening to me?” Sayid felt his heart and his whole being caught up in these words as he gave voice to what he most wished to be answered, words that were always close at hand in every moment.

“Not yet, Sayid.” James answered.

Sayid felt the subtle pout in his posture, so hungry to know more, always made to wait.

“Let us begin again tomorrow,” James suggested. The two men sat for moments, then minutes. The strong salty smell of the surf below found them, seeking entrance to their home on the tiny shafts of morning sunlight poking through the leaves outside.

Moments, then minutes. Neither man moved. _Perfect..._

“Will you love me, Sayid?” James asked.

Sayid's firmly held gaze was the exact measure of the distance and desire between the two men, the burning answer of his body and of his heart, a heat in his eyes a visible “yes.” But in his mind.... _No,_ he thought. _No, I have hurt him._ It no longer mattered to Sayid that James had hurt him.

“Sayid, you did what you must with me, what was best, as I did with you. I want you to love me now, and we can let this go between us, it can be gone before we move on to what is next. Let us finish it.”

Sayid listened, felt himself emerging from _inside_ , where he had been held closely by so many feelings now slipping away. He noticed a very slight pulling and relaxing in James' feet, ankles and legs, and knew that he was feeling deep desire for him, a surging pleasure.

_For me..._

Sayid stood and James immediately stood with him, so that they came together next to the bed, their fingers in each other's hair, their lips coming together and tongues strong and deep. Sayid grasped himself, rubbing his erection against James', as James clasped his own with thumb and finger, rubbing hard against Sayid, a boyish dance, hip to hip.

The men's gasps of pleasure and passion seemed amplified in the silence of the room, and with each gasp the other's pleasure mounted until they writhed against each other, trying in vain to get closer, to tongue deeper, to push harder, to be the one who fucked the other more... without fucking.

James began to push Sayid towards the bed, but Sayid slipped slightly to the side, so that James fell instead, grasping Sayid's shoulder, pulling Sayid down next to him onto his arm. He took Sayid's kisses, then enclosed Sayid and squeezed him, rocking him under him, pinning him, whispering in his ear.

“ _Sayid, my Sayid.... you are my Say... be my Say...”_ He caressed Sayid face, then pulled away, reaching for the vial of oil. He opened it and the sweet scent of sandalwood played on the air, a scent that Sayid associated with lovemaking, the memories of pleasures and passions shared with Jacob.

“Will you take me, Sayid?” James asked as he rubbed the oil firmly on his penis, adding more, lifting his hips slightly from the pleasure of each stroke of his hand.

Sayid breathed long, his body arching slightly, feeling the urgent need to _receive_ , to _take_ James inside, to open to him.

“Will you take me, James?” Sayid answered quietly as James gently turned him, covering him, owning him, seeking the depths of him with one long very very slow stroke of opening, of moving, of loving and mutual pleasure. Sayid drew his knees up and pushed himself onto James, pushing his head against the bed, his curls tumbling down around his head.

Slowly, again and again... their breaths became sighs and syllables, vowels pushed up and out by the consonants of their bodies meeting in the familiar rhythm and tensions of love.

James stopped and ground against Sayid, sure he could get no deeper, and Sayid brought his hand down to pleasure himself, grabbing himself with sudden passion, then feeling James grab his hand so that they both stroked him, playing against the give and take of each other's hands, sharing the thrill of Sayid's mounting pleasure and excitement.

James began to stroke inside _just so_ for his own pleasure, mounting to his release, as Sayid was taught and still with the certainty of his own, arching his face into the bed as he came, his voice letting go as his body seemed to pull itself apart, then falling undone, playing in its finest pleasure upon the bed.

James pulled out, and Sayid rolled slightly, breathing heavily, his hair tangled over his face and in his beard, his brown body arranged by love, compelled by the harms of bliss into the frank display of inner pleasures.

James fell next to him and turned to him as he was finishing himself, watching Sayid watching him, slowing a little. He made of his last few moments a show for his lover, his body rigid, then soft, a pale softness, his movements so slight as he closed gently against himself, his lips parted and his breath, like his body, barely moving.

Sayid watched him with fascination as all of James was given to this complex flutter, his subtle movements reminding Sayid of a flower in the rain. He put his hand on James' stomach, feeling the rippling there, then pulled himself up and lay gently on James, covering him, feeling his whole body pushing against him, against the bed, his long breath the name of hidden places, his mix of sweat and come the measure of pleasures spent.

This was what was real to Sayid, and everything before had become another person, another day. He brought his mouth to James' and kissed him, settling against him as one of a pair.

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-SIX: Hello Sayid** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381004/)

Sayid sat up and turned his eyes to that doorway, black as the room, blacker. He felt his body tense, and suppressed the urge to go to his weapon, which he no longer kept next to the bed.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	46. Hello Sayid

It was late and Sayid still wasn't asleep. He lay next to James and listened to him sleep, asking every hour, though he felt at last that he knew the answer.... _Am I worthy of such love?_

He remembered those special days with Jacob, the two of them laying together in his tiny tent, in his tiny bunk, loving and laughing as they fell in love, their honeymoon, he realized now. He smiled remembering their boyish smiles and laughter at the silly smiles of those in the camp, and the little band of survivors' delight as they shared in Sayid's delight, his happiness in his growing love for Jacob.

_Oh how I miss him..._

He felt James roll over, lifting his head, listening. He whispered to Sayid softly, though Sayid could not make out what he said. James sat up, watching the doorway.

Sayid sat up and turned his eyes to that doorway, black as the room, blacker. He felt his body tense, and suppressed the urge to go to his weapon, which he no longer kept next to the bed.

A figure appeared in the doorway, and Sayid felt James' hand firm on his shoulder, steadying him.

“Hello Sayid,” a familiar voice said.

“Hello Ben,” Sayid finally answered.

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN: A situation** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381037/)

“Someone, tell me... something,” Sayid said, taking a deep breath, facing the latest inevitable twist to life on the Island.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	47. A situation

Sayid rose from the bed, facing the source of that disturbing, unexpected voice. He stood in the darkness, hearing James move to the edge of the bed behind him, feeling for and lighting the lamp on the side table.

Sayid and Ben stood, looking at each other, knowing each other, remembering.

 _This_... thought Sayid, cursing under his breath in Arabic.

“I missed you too, Sayid,” Ben said. He pulled the desk chair over a little and casually settled into it.

There was a long moment of uncertainty before Sayid spoke.

“Let me guess, your name is Henry Gale,” Sayid said with a bitter sarcasm. He felt James take his hand, and breathed out his tension, regaining control.

“Everyone hates me,” Ben confided, looking at James, who turned his head a little, smiling.

“James knows the real me,” Ben said. Sayid sat back down, rubbing his face with obvious frustration. The two lovers sat naked on the edge of the bed, Sayid's hair wild, James sniffing his armpits and scratching his chest as he winked at Ben.

“Well, I see that you two have forged a strong bond,” Ben said, sitting back in the chair, looking around the room. “Too bad Sayid doesn't bring any decorating skills.”

“Oh, can we skip this part,” Sayid said, glancing sideways at James, who shrugged his shoulders.

“Okay.” Ben said.

Sayid remembered the look on Ben's face, _then_... the look that never changed, no matter how he had hurt him, no matter how expertly he had tortured him. The face of a liar, who had made up a story about being the man with the medicine, the man they found murdered later, Henry Gale. Ben had the medicine, medicine desperately needed by someone in camp. And it turned out that Ben required a payment for that medicine, one that had to be met when he would not reveal the medicine's whereabouts.

 _But then I worked for you,_ Sayid felt his recent anguish returning. _I killed for you._

“Someone, tell me... something,” Sayid said, taking a deep breath, facing the latest inevitable twist to life on the Island

“Well, Sayid,” Ben began. “You have given a lot to me over the course of our friendship...”

Sayid groaned.

“... so now it is my turn to give to you.”

“The point...” Sayid said.

James touched Sayid's shoulder. “This is what is next, Say...” he said, catching Sayid's eyes with his own, rubbing Sayid's shoulder until he relaxed.

“You asked him here?” Sayid finally put it all together.

“Yes,” James said, shaking Sayid very slightly, helping him to relax. “Though I didn't expect him in the middle of the night.” It was Ben's turn to shrug. James stood and walked to his clothes, pulling them on. He lit a smaller lamp, slipping on his sandals, then his eyes down, he turned away from Sayid, his body softly swaying in the light from his little lamp as he moved slowly through the temple and disappeared out into the night.

Sayid repressed the urge to call after him.

The two men sat, and Sayid decided that worse things could happen than getting a visit from Ben, like being left alone with him. The fact that James had asked him here was alarming. He wondered if someone was using someone here, or perhaps they were all using each other. He felt pretty sure that all people, without exception, were viewed as something to be used by Benjamin Linus.

“Okay Ben, please tell me what you are doing here,” Sayid asked.

“We've got... some unfinished business to attend to, Sayid.... a situation.” Ben said, his voice now serious.

“Okay,” Sayid said, his manner also becoming unemotional and focused. “Let's hear it.”

“I need you to kill someone for me,” Ben said.

Sayid just looked at Ben. His look said that Ben's next words should be chosen carefully. Ben did not speak.

“Have you made some new enemies, Ben?” Sayid finally said with a bitterness like poison, hearing the pain in his voice. He did not move his gaze from Ben's face.

“I have, yes,” Ben said. “But one of them is of a special variety, and requires an experienced assassin, someone I can trust.”

 _Assassin_...

Sayid was not surprised that Ben would choose such a loaded word when trying to manipulate him.

 _I killed for this man,_ he thought, stepping back from his visceral reaction to Ben's smooth intermixing of truth and dishonesty. _And he is still a liar._

Suddenly Sayid realized that what Ben was asking of him was much more than unbelievably annoying; it was completely absurd.

He shook his head forcefully. “What I did was never easy for me.... But now... I will not do that again.” Sayid noticed that he was arguing when there was no argument, and that he had to check an impulse to defend past behavior that was not being questioned. This was unsettling, frustrating.

“Why are you even here, Ben? You must know that I will not do anything for you ever again, and I assure you, _I will not kill for you.”_

“Someone you know needs this help from you, Sayid,” Ben said, his voice still serious. “Someone you know very well.”

“They need it, or you need it,” Sayid countered.

“Both.” Ben asserted.

Sayid lost his patience again, but did not speak. _Why was I so easy to use?_ He asked himself the familiar question once again, starting to understand why James might have asked Ben to come here.

_If I am still a murderer and a torturer, will the island ask this of me? How will I know?_

“Both...” Sayid repeated Ben's answer, waiting for Ben, who did not speak.

Sayid reached for the lamp, turning it up slightly. He felt that something was happening with Ben, right now... this wasn't about a task or a mission, or a new assignment for an old assassin.

Sayid relaxed, appearing to lose focus, careful to hide his own reactions. He looked at Ben casually, trying to read what was “off” in him, in their conversation. Ben's face, always expressive, though usually false, was unreadable. _I can read his eyes_ ... Sayid thought. He could always read their eyes. _He is ready,_ Sayid thought. _Ready for what?_ Ben was not moving, he was completely still.

Sayid traced Ben's body carefully in the lamplight, noticing areas of tension. _His hand._ He glanced again at Ben's hand, then continued to look elsewhere. _He has something hidden in his hand._

Sayid stood over Ben, grasping his hand in one quick motion, taking the hidden item. He opened his hand. A small black stone, round and completely smooth.

Ben lifted his other hand, opening it, palm up. A small white stone, round and completely smooth. Ben closed his hand over the stone. There was long moment when Sayid decided he wanted Ben to stay more than he wanted him to leave. He sat back down on the side of the bed, his hand clasping the black stone resting in his lap.

“There is no in between in this test, Sayid. No gray, none. You must possess both stones to pass the test. Both stones represent a _means_ , a way of attaining. You have taken possession of the stone that goes with doing what you must. You must somehow possess the stone that goes with doing what is best.”

“I am here to ask you to kill for me Sayid,” he repeated.

“For you, and for someone else, someone I know well.” Sayid prompted him. “Who is this other person, Ben?”

“It is you, Sayid.”

Sayid stopped. He felt his breath almost fluttering slightly, his heartbeat skipping, a moment moving with the subtle dance of lamplight on the walls and ceiling.

 _This is not about Ben_ , he thought. _It is about me._

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT: A beating heart** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381046/)

_Someone is dead because of me_... he heard the familiar words, only this time he saw those he had killed for Ben in his mind, their eyes wild with fear, their bodies falling, the copper smell of the blood flowing, the sweet smokey smell of the gunpowder rising.

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	48. A beating heart

Sayid looked down at the floor, at his brown feet crossed on the smooth stone, a tiny halo of golden lamplight dancing on them without sound. He looked at his hands, one palm down, still clasping the stone, the other he lifted slightly and looked at it, palm up. He found the tiny scars from the occasional, accidental injuries he received while torturing, something only a lover would notice. Each one had a voice that went with it, someone terrified, someone in pain.

 _Someone is dead because of me_... he heard the familiar words, only this time he saw those he had killed for Ben in his mind, their eyes wild with fear, their bodies falling, the iron/copper smell of the blood flowing, the sweet smokey smell of the gunpowder rising.

He had thought it was his own idea to work for Ben, to begin killing for Ben.

_Why was I so easy to use?_

He remembered Ben offering him proof of who killed Nadia, a photograph of the Iraqi in the car that had struck her, killing her. Sayid remembered walking away from Ben already knowing what he would do with this information. The question was, would he seek more, kill more of the ones who did this, who took her away from him? 

He knew when he killed the Iraqi, when he felt the sharp spike of heat rising through his body, his thoughts and motivations becoming one-pointed, his pain pushed aside, his past undone and no longer connected to _now_. That really was the end of questioning. It was too hard without it, too easy to slip back into a familiar method of numbing an intolerable pain.

He needed more.

He did not return to _torture_ ; only _killing_ , he told himself. But wasn't it torture when he appeared and their faces were as wild as his own was grim, their eyes pleading as with his dead eyes he hated them, as he easily found the stance of killing, his arms raised, the weapon at arms length between his eyes and their heart, as he pictured that beating heart, then took it away.

The world went completely silent around him, a life extinguished, then the sound of his own heart still beating, still filled with pain, needing more revenge, more.

Sayid tried but could not remember if he had ever believed he had done these things for Nadia. What if he had done them only for himself? If someone must pay for her death, then Ben knew who they were, the ones who would pay. The Italian, the Russian, it was so easy to find them, to kill them, to walk away. The man in the restaurant kitchen. The man outside of the mental hospital. That one had died without knowing he was in danger. The men he fought at the safe house... his memory of them distorted by the drug when he was darted.

Sayid was avoiding the thought of Elsa, as he always did. No. He would not remember what had happened, what he had to do. Killing Elsa had created more pain in him than all of the pain that was taken away by killing the others. 

_How did I end up in that position_ , he asked himself. He still did not know.

Sayid looked up at Ben. Ben's eyes were kind, even sincere. He seemed happy to wait for Sayid to decide what came next.

“What should I do, Ben?” Sayid asked sincerely. Ben smiled. He was obviously happy, and relieved. His whole attitude changed to someone who was about to begin something very important.

“Good for you, Sayid,” he said. “Good for you.”

[ **CHAPTER FORTY-NINE: He was brave** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381058/)

He was intrigued when he bent to the man, speaking low in his ear. “Give me one name,” he said, as he had repeated with him for days, over and over. “If you will give me _his_ name, you will not suffer, and I will protect your family. You will be free of _this_...” Sayid looked up, gesturing at the world of war around them, beyond these walls.


	49. He was brave

Ben was silent, and sat with Sayid with a look so full of presence that Sayid was unnerved, almost afraid, checking his feelings. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing into his body, becoming as still as Ben, the stillness of listening.

The breeze outside and the sounds of the distant waves were muffled, sounding further away, then completely silent. The only sounds were the cadence of the mens' breathing, which seemed louder in the stillness.

They sat in the lamplight, the slight movement of the gentle light the only visible motion in the room. Sayid could feel his heart moving his body so very slightly with each beat. The cool floor felt reassuring beneath his feet, smooth and hard and pleasantly familiar, the part of his home that they all touched most, the comings and goings of those that he loved.

Still listening, the moments passed and Sayid was still attentive, waiting.

Then Sayid found another sound, the sound of another source of faint breathing. Turning his head to listen, he found the direction of this sound, and looked to the reading chair in the darkness below the high windows. The chair, but a few steps away, seemed far away from the lamplight, but close to his hearing, the breath sounds drawing his eyes, seeking their source.

He found the dark figure there, the size of a child, almost too small to be seen above the outline of the large chair. The shadow seemed strangely quiet and still for a child, and Sayid was moved by a premonition of someone from long ago. He felt a strange heat at his crown start and then ripple like fire so slowly, almost winding down his neck and spine, then turning icy cold, making him shudder, stirring him to action. He stood, leaning to grasp and calmly lift the lamp, and brought it to the middle of the room. He held the lamp up, revealing the figure to be a gray haired man, small and bent over with age.

Sayid stopped, feeling his eyes focus as he stared and then blinked at the man, the one he knew to be dead. He closed his eyes, remembering how he had left him broken, how they had carried him out of the room.

 _My room_.

When Sayid opened his eyes, he was somehow standing in that room. The old man sat in the middle, straightened on the familiar chair, pained by the tight bindings, the floor beneath him dark with the fluids of fear and torture.

Sayid stood where he had once stood _then_ , and found that he was still the same man, with the same emotions, good and bad. But none of it meant the same thing. Instead of seeking to destroy his emotions with his chosen craft of destroying people, he found that he now was examining his emotions with a hungry curiosity, finding knowledge of them interesting and valuable. It was a moment of humanity that changed his place in the scene. He saw clearly how he had slipped into a role in the wider play of evil that snaked through many lives and one small world, a power of destruction and death greater than them all, yet still affected by their smallest choices.

He was intrigued when he bent to the man, speaking low in his ear. “Give me one name,” he said, as he had repeated with him for days, over and over. “If you will give me _his_ name, you will not suffer, and I will protect your family. You will be free of _this_...” Sayid looked up, gesturing at the world of war around them, beyond these walls.

He noticed the change in the man's posture and breathing, and wondered if at last he was considering Sayid's offer, his promise.

“Save your family, Nazeem,” Sayid said quietly at his ear.

Sayid waited, then stepped back, ready to start over yet again, so many times with this one. He turned to his men, but instead of having them return the man to his cell, he gestured for them to leave, gesturing again to reassure them. The men glanced at each other as they stood, obeying this rare request, leaving him alone with a prisoner.

Sayid sat on the edge of the desk, waiting for the old one, to see if he would speak first, would speak at last.

Suddenly, in his mind he heard one word, as clear as if he heard it aloud: _Nazeem_.

“You!?!” Sayid said, his quiet voice a question and an answer. “It is _you!_ ”

Sayid stood and held the old man's head, looking into his eyes.

“ _It is you._ You are the one I seek.” Sayid dropped the man's head, turning away. He almost laughed, shaking his head a little as he let the relief pour through him. At last he could stop this man's destruction, and protect those Sayid commanded and served.

Sayid closed his eyes, indulging in this feeling of relief, then immediately turned back to face the man under the single light overhead, haunted by.... He had seen in his mind the numbers of men he had broken and killed to get to this one, thinking the old man was just another one who would talk or would not. How many men? How many that knew nothing? He did not ask these questions. And yet... these questions had found him at last.

He looked at the old man with new eyes. His age and bent body were a perfect disguise. Sayid never expected to find that a weak old man had sent spies to him, men who over the course of years had slowly infiltrated his feared unit of spies and enforcers, Sayid's accomplices in the intelligence gathering that went with his role as torturer, and theirs of executioners.

“Nazeem...” he said, looking at the man, watching him for signs that he was afraid, for a clue to his weakness. He found only strength and nobility. He realized that he admired the man, that they were perhaps equals.

“We are two enemies, you and I, are we not?” Sayid asked, seeking a shared understanding. At last the man lifted his head, and looked at Sayid with defiance and kinship in a shared world, though they found themselves on opposite sides of it.

“It is true,” Nazeem said, speaking at last. “We have all become you...” he added, and Sayid was puzzled. “We have all become you, Sayid Jarrah. Whoever is best, whoever is worst, that is what we have all become.”

“You think you are like me?” Sayid asked him.

“I am a worthy enemy, am I not?”

“You are,” Sayid agreed, “Though I did not picture you thus.”

“It took you a long time to find me,” the man said, smiling. “And many men...” he added quietly, his voice at last betraying a weariness, his face becoming hardened and resigned to pain. “It is time for this to end, Sayid Jarrah.”

“I would make it all end if I could,” Sayid mused quietly, letting his guard down, something he never did, without exception, as a matter of pride in his craft.

“Be realistic,” Nazeem said, chiding him. “I knew your father, Sayid. _Be like your father_ , it is what every boy must hear when he loses he way.”

Sayid felt his face change as his emotions seemed to tip over inside, starting a reaction of feeling that he could not fight or control. _Be like father_...

“Save my family, Sayid,” Nazeem asked. It was a request that Sayid had heard from every man he turned away from, every voice that would soon be silent. _This time... I will._ Just as he would save the lives of those who depended on him, the lives of those on Sayid's side of a divided world. He would do this, because he must, but also because it was best.

Sayid saw clearly then that he _was_ like his father, always ready to do what must be done. His father had taught Sayid to be this way, and when it came time for Sayid to be a soldier, he was immediately strong and capable. He found his way, and found his place in it all during a time of darkness and division.

“I will protect your family, Nazeem.” Sayid said, his voice a promise. “They will know that you were brave,” Sayid could hear the humanity in his own voice, and knew then that his own fate was not yet written, as it was for this one.

“Thank you, Sayid Jarrah. I will tell your father as much.” Nazeem must know that Sayid's father was dead these many years.

Sayid knew that they were both finished. It was time for this part of his work to end.

He walked to the door, and welcomed his soldiers, who entered, then stood near the door, awaiting his orders. He walked to the center of the room, the center of his world. He did not look at the man again, nor at the dark doorway at the rear of the room.

Sayid turned away from the man, his back towards him, and looked at his men. They seemed relieved as they walked to Nazeem, picking him up by his armpits and turning him as they walked to the rear of the room and disappeared. Sayid could hear Nazeem's breathing as they retreated, then the solid click as the door closed behind them, then all was silent.

It was as though the single light above him had gone out. He did not look around his room, or back at the chair and desk in the center. Pushing open the door, he walked out into the early evening coolness, leaving the room behind him.

Sayid looked up and realized that he was standing in Jacob's room on the island, his room, the lamp in his hand, the chair empty as he turned back to Ben, who looked at him with a knowing look of acknowledgment, the shared relief of the freedom and willingness to move on from what was most difficult.

 _Be like father_ , Sayid heard his brother's voice again, remembering the apparition of his brother standing in the jungle, holding the long dead chicken that Sayid had slaughtered for him. His brother was much older than that boy now, though Sayid had lost contact with him years ago.

 _I am like father,_ Sayid thought with with a new feeling of trust in the course of his life, feeling a strange mix of emotions that made him think of Jacob and miss him terribly. Sayid lifted his hand, warm and moist from clasping a tiny prize. He opened his hand and was mystified by what he saw.

There were two small and smooth stones on his palm, one black and one white.

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY: It is done** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381082/)

James remained on the edge of the bed, holding one of Sayid's clenched hands lightly, watching over his peaceful sleep. He turned to Ben, and they both smiled, holding each other's gaze. They sat for awhile, until they were sure that Sayid was deep in sleep, recovering from what had happened.

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	50. It is done

At that moment, Sayid turned to see the faintest outline of movement in the outer doorway of the temple, recognizing the tall figure of James returning with the faintest light of dawn behind him.

Sayid felt his heart swell as James walked straight to him and embraced him, kissing his forehead and embracing him several new ways in succession, communicating a special welcome which augmented Sayid's laughter. “Yes, Sayid, you are becoming like me,” James said, playfully testing various places on his body, catching Sayid's eye as he caressed him all over with his hands, laughing.

Sayid felt wild little bursts of bliss all over his body. James slowed his touches, lingering in each place. Sayid felt as though he were lifted and began to fall forwards, so that James quickly caught him, hugging him as Sayid slipped under. Sayid clasped the little stones tightly as James carried him to the bed, laying him very carefully under the covers, then stroking his hair. He kissed Sayid, and Sayid felt it as his last sensation of floating, floating off into a velvet vision of sleep.

James remained on the edge of the bed, holding one of Sayid's clenched hands lightly, watching over his peaceful sleep. He turned to Ben, and they both smiled, holding each other's gaze. They sat for awhile, until they were sure that Sayid was deep in sleep, recovering from what had happened.

“Thank you, Ben,” James said.

“Of course, James,” Ben nodded, still smiling. “He seems to have moved entirely through it.”

James thought for several moments. “I think he is done with it.”

“I think so too,” Ben said. “He almost destroyed himself, But he chose to kill out of duty, not for himself, and not even a thought of killing to numb his own pain. It is done.”

“Yes,” James said. “He is so close now.” James sat looking down at Sayid lost in peaceful sleep.

“Will Jacob return?” Ben asked.

“Not yet, my friend. Soon.”

“Okay, well if you need me again...” Ben stood, shaking off the stiffness of sitting.

“Stay,” James said, standing. Ben allowed James to embrace him warmly.

“Someday you will embrace me back,” James predicted, aware of the double entendre as Ben laughed and changed the subject.

“You have done well, here,” he said as he looked around. Then Ben picked up the little game box as they turned to walk through the temple. Ben slowed a little to gaze up at the distant ceiling, finding the places where the handiwork of many people long dead was most visible.

“A moment...” James said as he turned, listening as Ben continued outside for the strange _crunch, crunch_ sound of one who wore shoes.

James sat again upon the bed, watching Sayid sleep. He caressed Sayid's hair and cheek lightly. He felt that his love for Sayid was the closest that he would ever get to having a son, and yet, Sayid was his lover, and somehow owned the larger portion of his heart.

James leaned to Sayid, placing his forehead gently on Sayid's shoulder, making a sudden tryst of moist breath expanding as love. “You are going to be me, Sayid,” he whispered, feeling tears start as the ache pushed through him, so much stronger now as he allowed himself to feel the long denied need for release.

When his tears stopped, James sat up and wiped his eyes and face, looking around at it all, imagining the change. After so many years of bearing the burden, waiting for the one who would finally come... Here lay that one, his own.

James prepared and brought food and water out to the little hand hewn stools and mossy edged table there under the trees. He pulled up a seat opposite to Ben, and carefully spread the food out on the low table. They ate slowly, laughing, remembering what they liked most about each other, pulling out some well worn reminiscences, taunting each other about funny situations from the past.

Both men were content with their place in the world. Both knew well that the currents of life flowing through them were shaped by that One which had remade them. They had given all that they had to the Island. They had given themselves.

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: Why are you crying?** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381148/)

_I have been other things..._ Sayid thought without dismay, so that he found himself bravely thinking of Ben tending to his wound, Sayid's face wet with tears as Ben chided him for caring about her... _Elsa_.

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	51. Why are you crying?

The air lightly seeping into his little world was fresh with the warm and breezy currents of afternoon when Sayid awoke, nestled deep in the covers, curled in the dark space of sleep. As he became more alert, he slowly pulled the covers down, turning his head as he stretched, finding himself alone and pleasantly rested.

He sat up, noticing two little stones on the bedside table, black and white, round and smooth. He smiled, remembering James' return and happiness for him this same day. 

Sayid stood, happy at distant sounds that pulled him, guaging his strength as he walked naked through the temple and out onto the soft earth. Passing Ben and James laughing, then both happily surprised. James smiling a private hello, then looking back at Ben as Sayid continued along the path to the far end of the rocky overhang.

Sayid returned to the silent exhilaration of shared concentration on the little box-like game board. He stood for a moment, the lacy leaves above the two men shifting so the sparkling sunlight danced upon the scene, making them both appear completely still, like two men forever concerned with the next move in the game.

James turned to Sayid then, and rose, pulling one of the little chairs over for him, caressing and kissing him as Sayid sat down. James uncovered and handed Sayid a large leaf of fresh food as Ben placed a carafe of water within reach. Ben and Sayid nodded to each other, and Sayid found it easy to return Ben's warm smile as greeting. James sat back, stretching and smiling with affection at Sayid, obviously happy and pleased as Sayid began to eat with pleasure, smiling back at James with his eyes, then closing his eyes at times as he savored the flavors and textures of food, so pleasing to one who was so hungry.

Sayid looked at the game with little stones like his own, round and smooth, some black and some white. He was never sure who was winning, though he guessed this time it was Ben, though Ben was very good at hiding his excitement. Jacob had told Sayid once that Senet was a timeless game because it depended upon both skill and luck. Sayid knew James had played Senet many thousands of times more than Ben, but then, how old was Ben? _Who_ was Ben in this play of time, which now somehow included Sayid? Ben seemed to be so many things, none of which went together.

 _I have been other things..._ Sayid thought without dismay, so that he found himself bravely thinking of Ben tending to his wound, Sayid's face wet with tears as Ben chided him for caring about her... _Elsa_.

“ _Why are you crying... because it hurts? Or because you were stupid enough to care for her?”_

The memory of Ben's voice filled Sayid's consciousness, and he felt something inside of himself let go, so that he was suddenly weak, slipping without foothold into an old darkness that stung him with anguish and shame.

Ben's face changed suddenly as he caught James' hand, holding it over the board, looking urgently at Sayid. James turned and caught Sayid up just as he began to slide from the chair. He held Sayid tightly as they took in what had happened, James lifting Sayid so that his head rested on his shoulder like a sleeping child. Ben was touched to see James' tender tears as he rocked Sayid gently, knowing that he was still suffering.

“He is not finished, James,” Ben said softly.

“No he is not.”

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO: The door of truth** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381160/)

Sayid had remembered then, as he remembered now. _Only once_ , he had heard the sound of her weapon exploding in his ears, his body broken open, the shock of the change in Elsa as he fell back against the bed.

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	52. The door of truth

Sayid was sitting in the veterinary office at night, crying... crying over Elsa. He braced himself against the pain, breaking the silence with his guttural sounds as Ben pulled the bullet from his shoulder, dropping it with a "clank" in the nearby tray.

“These people don't deserve our sympathies,” he remembered Ben's voice admonishing him in a practical tone that matched his businesslike tending to Sayid's wound. 

Sayid had remembered then, as he remembered now. _Only once_ , he had heard the sound of her weapon exploding in his ears, his body broken open, the shock of the change in Elsa as he fell back against the bed.

Surely she knew.... _Every assassin knows, always the double tap._

Sayid was in the business of certainty. His life depended on it. ... _to be sure._ Just as any real torturer knew to never use their hands, to protect their own body as they created pain and the immense need for mental release in another. Touch communicated humanity, decency, the feelings right before the desire to simply give what was asked. Sayid had rarely touched a prisoner with his hands unless he was close to helping them give up, and end the fight, end the pain.

 _Listen_ , he told himself. This was the part he got lost in, every time. Around it, but never through it, he could not get at the source of his pain. Did she keep him alive? Would she have? Not that it mattered anymore. Elsa had not fired twice, and she had payed for that with her own life. He heard her voice so cruel and businesslike as she called her contact, recognizing then that she had merely exercised her option to kill Sayid without keeping him alive any longer. _Listen_ , he told himself. Elsa stated clearly that she had preferred to kill him.

Ben finished cleaning the wound, and turned back to his tray, preparing to close.

 _Always the same question_... Sayid felt a painful wound that must somehow be emptied and closed, one that was not physical.

_Why did I care? Why do I still care? Elsa was false, I heard her say it, she was keeping me alive for information. _  
__

This is where the struggle always started in his mind. They were two lovers, two that were both false, at first. But then only one of two still made a pretense of passion. He had found something real in himself, had allowed himself to hope that he could love again, that he could protect the one he loved, that she would not be taken away like the others, that the last of all hope in his life had not been used up, depleted each time he took another's life.

Sayid allowed the rest of the memory then, of his skills set in motion, instinctively saving his own life, leaving Elsa's body slumped and bloody against the wall as she slid downward into death. Gone.

Again. His hand on her cheek.... his tears on his own.

Again.

He had killed her, not as an assassin, but to save his own life. _Only once..._ he had saved his own life, stopping her with one bullet that also took her life.

When Sayid stood, he did not walk away from Elsa. He returned to Ben. He slipped back into Ben's plans with nothing but the knowledge that if there was war, then he was in it, and if he killed, it was because those he killed were prepared for him or sent to him, his skills to be had with a few words only he could decipher. Because he was the one who could. Because he was the one that did not flinch, nor delight in his duty. He was uniquely fearless, but not reckless. He was recognized for this quality, even decorated because of it.

Sayid became what was needed. He became what others were incapable of. He took his special knowledge into every situation, everywhere he went. He was aware whenever this need for him arose, and stepped into place.

 _This was why... _They cared only about this quality in me.__ Somehow they found him, those that knew how to use Sayid for their own ideas of what was necessary.

When did it begin? But it was Sayid who had chosen to continue when it was no longer clear who he served or why. He had used his work to distract himself from his pain. He chose delusion. He was not honest with himself about why he did the dirty work of others. The longer this dishonesty with himself continued, the more darkening shame Sayid felt inside; shame that built up and pressed against the door of truth, forcing it closed. He became walled off from himself, from his humanity. His eyes dulled, his steps mechanical. He was dying.

_This is why I was so easy to use._

Sayid felt as though a bell had been struck, though there was no sound. It was so simple. Surely everyone knew, except for him.

It seemed so obvious now, but Sayid had never looked clearly at the place in him that allowed others to engage him, at the trade-offs they set in motion as he embraced the pain of a world always at war, and his place in it— the one who dealt pain.

_This... this is why I was so easy to use._

Sayid opened his eyes, and found himself in his bed on the Island, flat on his back with the covers carefully arranged, as though he remained where he had been placed. He did not remember how he got there. The quiet air of evening slipped into the room with the clear and plaintive calls of the birds returning to their roosts.

He lay looking at the ceiling, wondering again what was happening to him. He was certain of a force in his life that was preparing him for service. Somehow his skills would be used in the service of the Island. And for the first time, he had the almost idle thought, the realization that he had already taken the task of protecting the Island. While he was killing for Ben, even for his own dark reasons, even if he didn't think of the island at all, even if Ben was wrong about how to protect it... he was hired to protect the island. This was significant, and Sayid was sure that he was close to finding out why.

Sayid sat up a new man. He seemed to leave layer after layer of himself in the bed as he slowly sat up, slipping his feet onto the floor, the room an invisible current, fresh with the evening coolness.

He stood and walked out, _step step_ through the temple, listening in the shadows to hear the delighted laughter he expected from the playful forms of God, seeing in his mind the happy dance of Krishna with his flute, winking and shaking his dark curls as he moved with the bliss of it all.

Sayid stepped slowly, with a sure purpose, down from the temple steps and onto the soft soil of the little clearing where Ben and James sat relaxing together, _waiting for me_... he thought as he stopped for a moment, loving their voices calm and intimate as they enjoyed the perfect moment before his perfect moment, _...which is now._ Then James turned to him and stood, smiling, finding with relief the obvious change in Sayid's new state of joy and calm freedom.

“Sayid... Sayid...” James sang out, reaching for Sayid as Ben almost fell back in his chair from turning quickly towards the two men swaying about in the center of the clearing, dancing to the sound of the trees chattering with a sudden song from a long gust of salty air, leaves falling around them and dancing about with easy enthusiasm. Ben laughed at their antics, smiling as he partook of their playful joy.

James put his hands on Sayid's head when they stopped, his fingers entwined in his hair, his forehead on Sayid's, his breath subsiding from the playful dance. Sayid could feel his own body swelling from a new inner source, his breath becoming slow and intimate between them. James kissed his forehead, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle, his words somehow describing what had happened to Sayid, and what was to come.

“Sayid Jarrah... my Sayid, forever mine...”

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE: The bride** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381187/)

Ben had taken his usual seat in the desk chair, but did not turn it towards the bed, listening as the lovers' movements matched their pulling breaths made deeper, pushing breaths become tiny, barely audible gasps, again and again as they moved in a slow dance of ecstasy.

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	53. The bride

James whispered in Sayid's ear. A few reminders of shared pleasures, a private language of few words that caught Sayid up with desire.

 _Today, you are the bride..._ James said Sayid's name in between breathy kisses and muscles releasing into the movements of an insistent bliss. _“Sayid... Sayid...”_

“Yes,” Sayid answered, hearing the change in his own breathing. _This moment I feel it true... I am the bride..._

James looked up, finding Ben's gaze. For a moment they were all still, Sayid watching as James and Ben looked at each other. It seemed that they were continuing a conversation that had become silent, a matter about which all had been said long ago. Sayid noticed that Ben's body posture was stiff and conveyed discomfort. All of this in a moment, for Sayid felt his own joy opening through him in waves, almost lifting him up, so that he felt that he might fly.

James smiled, his knowing eyes encouraging the reluctant man. He reached out his hand, waiting. Finally Ben smiled and relaxed his posture.

“Just to be there, just to watch,” James said. Ben stood, but did not take James' hand.

Sayid felt as though every time in his life had built up to this moment. He felt James' arm around his waist as though they were being swept along, rubbing their feet on the little mat, feeling the smiling eyes of the Gods and Buddhas on them as they silently tread the slick rock, hearing Ben's delayed steps behind them as he removed his shoes.

_I am the bride..._

Sayid had returned triumphant to their rooms in a temple, on an island, on the sea.

James took Sayid in his arms and lifted him, so that Sayid's head fell back with a rush of pleasure, moaning as James carried him to the bed, gently laying him there with great care, pulling the bedding back as he settled beside him, gently rubbing and caressing Sayid, who was lost in feeling.

Ben had taken his usual seat in the desk chair, but did not turn it towards the bed, listening as the lovers' movements matched their pulling breaths made deeper, pushing breaths become tiny, barely audible gasps, again and again as they moved in a slow dance of ecstasy.

James began gently rubbing his short, spiky hair and rough beard against Sayid's stomach, stopping just above the tip of Sayid's penis, making the hot breaths on the head that gave Sayid chills, a half-painful tease. He put his hands on James' head and pushed lightly, but James resisted. Again the hot breaths, and Sayid moaned. He pushed hard on James' head as James rocked his head forward, bracing himself above Sayid's penis with his forehead on Sayid's stomach.

Sayid arched up with his hips, pushing strong on the top of James' head, pushing him down at last as Sayid voiced his pleasure in delicious triumph. James relented and began to push and suck in long slow movements that Sayid matched with the movements of his hips.

Sayid floated between the inner world of pleasure and the sounds of their lovemaking in the silent room. He felt no discomfort from Ben's gaze. He glanced at Ben as he rolled slightly, moaning with deep pleasure, the lids of his eyes half closed, his head pushing back into the pillow slightly, his curls dropping over his face as he turned his head. Ben turned his head, and Sayid pushed back his hair, offering Ben his lingering gaze, holding it steady against the movements of his body as James pleasured him.

Ben returned Sayid's gaze for a long moment, then looked away. Sayid saw clearly that Ben was overcome with feeling, the feelings that made him so tight physically, so that he seemed to struggle with an inner source of conflict.

Sayid looked down at James who was caressing him idly, watching and waiting for Sayid's focus to return to James' pleasuring.

 _Nothing is more important than sex,_ Sayid thought. _I am sexual, and then there is everything else._

He thought of the size of his penis, his testicles, a major appendage to his body. When he was naked, these wiggly soft parts of him were compelling and interesting. _I feed my body so it can move my penis around_ , Sayid thought, laughing.

James swatted Sayid's hip and let his teeth just graze Sayid's penis.

 _“M ūjiʻ!”_ Sayid jerked away, then he was moving up and down, trying to speed things up.

 _Yes, this is the truth of it,_ Sayid thought, moving his hips slightly to James' rhythm. _There are a lot of very important things in this world. It seems I am destined to be a part of something important. But when I live for myself, it is all before, during and after sex. Everything._

“Stop thinking, Sayid...” James began again, reaching for Sayid's wandering attention with strong pulls on him that matched the movement of Sayid's hips.

Again Sayid turned his head, finding Ben watching him. “Don't be shy because of me,” Ben said with his usually dry, effortlessly arch humor.

Sayid slowly pushed his penis all of the way into James' mouth, holding it there, James holding his breath. It was a connection that brought deep waves of pleasure up through two bodies connected in a motionless give and take, so that Sayid held his breath as well, his head moving imperceptibly, falling with his curls back upon the pillow, baring his throat, wanting to feel James there as well.

James made little up and down motions before he slowly drew back from Sayid and took a long breath.

Again and again, each time James took Sayid all of the way in, filling his mouth and throat, Sayid quivering slightly as he arched with pleasure. Both silent, both holding their breath, then both exhaling and breathing in a long quiet exhale and inhale of desire, the two men pushing back together with a still passion, a meditation in physical joining, lost in the mental sex of that joining, with no movement, the opposite of fucking.

At last Sayid began to slip from this still state, feeling his passion and pleasure overflowing, undoing his control so that at last he began again moving in James mouth, small movements at first, then quick fucking that eventually slapped against James' face.

“ _Oh................”_ Sayid said. Again... and again. James grasped Sayid's penis so that he was sucking above the strokes of his hand, driving Sayid to his peak.

“ _James...”_ Sayid said under his breath. _“James.....”_ his voice was pushed down by pleasure, pressing out with love. _“Jay........my Jay.....”_

Sayid was completely silent as he came, his body again completely still as he went over, and over, then jerking wildy, James holding his pelvis down with his large hands, switching to a slow, soft stroke of unpursed lips that allowed Sayid to continue coming without wrenching from the discomfort of over-intensity.

Sayid settled long and slow into this after glow of pleasure with little spasms of returning release that lasted far longer than usual. James barely touched him with his lips and tongue, breathing hot on Sayid with his mouth hovering around him, not touching him, then grasping him so lightly and pulling up to the head, rubbing it so lightly with his tongue.

Sayid reached for James' when he felt that he could not take any more stimulation and James relented, releasing his hold on him slowly, then coming up to rest next to Sayid, their minds still, their breaths uneven as they sighed and settled into their deep relaxation again and again.

James became almost shy as Sayid pulled him to a kiss, an eloquent reward, kissing James deeply, softly, then moving slightly to rub James' head with affection, feeling his earlobes, tracing his eyebrows, encircling him with his arms and hugging him with great feeling.

James remembered Ben, sitting so close. _Ben cannot join in this way_ , he realized again, so many times, over and over, feeling this deep love for him, hoping they could be this intimate at last. No.

James watched Sayid's face, aware of the simmering questions that Sayid had learned to hold in check, now seeking him as the need for an understanding that went with intense physical intimacy.

“Tell me,” James said at last. _Finally_ ... he thought. _I can reach out to him. I can help him along..._

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR: Tell me** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381193/)

“Are you and Jacob the same person, the same being?” Sayid asked, not sure if this was wildly false or more wildly true.

James moved his head back slightly, looking into Sayid's eyes with surprise and affection.

“Sayid...” James said. He held Sayid's eyes with his own as they shared several breaths, as he seemed to start over, finding a different purpose to his time with Sayid.

“Oh, just tell him something,” Ben said, and James smiled.

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	54. Tell me

“Tell me,” James said.

 _Finally,_ Sayid thought, answering James with the steady gaze of long preparation. _Someone wants to hear my questions. And answer them._

“Are you and Jacob the same person, the same being?” Sayid asked, not sure if this was wildly false or more wildly true.

James moved his head back slightly, looking into Sayid's eyes with surprise and affection.

“Sayid...” James said. He held Sayid's eyes with his own as they shared several breaths, as he seemed to start over, finding a different purpose to his time with Sayid.

“Oh, just tell him something,” Ben said, and James smiled.

“Jacob and I were born together. We have always been together.”

“Yes,” Sayid said.

“But we weren't always _like this.._.” Sayid was aware that James was feeling his way, deciding what he really wanted to say about something he kept close, a form of love.

“But our work... Sayid. The Island requires at least two, at least two sources for its protection...”

"...light and dark," Sayid said with him. Again, James smiled.

“Ben.” Sayid said immediately, understanding Ben's place in the story, their story. He pictured Ben's version of a barely registered smile behind him. There was a long moment while Sayid caught up with his understanding.

“Obviously, I didn't pass the test,” Ben said, his voice even, betraying little emotion. _  
_

Sayid remembered the pain that James brought with him when he returned to Jacob.

_The second time I met him... after he raped me._

“James, were you... were you _you_ then? When you hurt me?”

“I was there,” James answered.

 _I cannot... not yet..._ Sayid thought, putting the feelings away.

“Why do you need Ben? Why do you need me?” Sayid voice was confident again. He was certain that everything was within his reach.

“Sayid, I still cannot tell you these things. You won't understand it, my love, not yet.” James rubbed Sayid's shoulders reassuringly.

“He's doing you a big favor,” Ben said.

And Sayid was hearing James' words again. _The Island requires two forces for its protection, light and dark..._

“Darkness....” Sayid said aloud, grasping a new understanding that somehow pushed his need for answers aside. 

“I have embodied darkness.” 

Sayid's mind opened. He was floating again in his vision of following the stream into the heart of the mountains, of finding that the heart of the Island extended for several miles under the ocean.

As soon as Sayid thought of that place far below, he saw through closed eyes and felt himself moving, rushing through wet stone and darkness, made of a pure energy that surged with a slight pulse of bliss. _Where is the lava, the movement as heat?_ he pondered as he moved downward through the completely black and soundless places. Down, down, _forever_... then unmoving _forever_ , feeling with his being a sacred presence, opening to receive him, cradling him in a place of mystery and potential.

The Sayid of _many_ became _one_ , shedding all but essence, calm and sweet. He felt his heart open. Something was taken, and something replaced, his heart closing in a new way. He expressed his love and thanks without sound or motion, acknowledging his source. 

Sayid opened his eyes slowly, his breath and body dripping with the scent of dark water and soaked stone, and the languorous sensation of being moved, floating.

“Sayid, my love,” James caressed Sayid's face and hair, his voice that of a long-awaited ecstasy. “The Island has accepted you.”

 _It is true_... Sayid thought. _It has happened to me. To me!_ Sayid looked at James, then at Ben, who mirrored the change in him with the gaze of full understanding. Immediately Sayid wanted to tell a certain someone who would also understand how special this day and this moment was to him.

Sayid had wanted to ask this question every day, every hour... “When will Jacob return?” 

“Jacob knows in this moment that you have been tested at last, and that you have been accepted, Sayid. He can return now whenever he wishes.”

“Good for you, Sayid.” Ben said, his voice layered with emotions that Sayid could guess at. Ben had hoped for this once, but the Island had not chosen him. _He must live somewhere in between,_ Sayid thought, realizing how difficult that must be for Ben.

They were quiet for a time. Then Sayid felt James shifting physically against him, and more; sinking into himself a little, letting go at last into his own feelings of release and triumph. Sayid held and caressed him as James also encircled Sayid with his long, muscular arms, squeezing him tightly, rocking him, kissing him and rubbing him with a fervent release of denied energy. He sighed again and again as they rocked slightly.

“I am becoming you, James,” Sayid said at his ear, his voice quiet, the room quiet.

“Yes you are,” James answered.

“And you are becoming...?”

“Shhhhhh... Sayid. I cannot explain all things now. You will have to wait for Jacob. Then you will find out for yourself, and know what it means, to you.”

"James, I cannot wait any longer." _Wait longer... wait longer... always the same answer._ Sayid felt his intense focus lining up within him, his orientation to task, a consummate soldier. He wanted to question James sharply, to talk to Ben, to Jacob.

“Sayid, we are not the only ones in this play. The Island needs us in ways you don't understand yet. Be patient. Wait for Jacob, Sayid.”

Sayid sank back into James' embrace, remembering the vision of the heart of the Island, far below, now his source. _Soon I will know..._ he thought, somehow settling back into waiting.

“How can two people be one?” Sayid added in a quiet voice.

“Shhhhhhhhhhh....” James kissed Sayid, silencing him.

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE: Dream** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381223/)

Sayid was dreaming. He dreamed that he sat up, glancing lovingly at James next to him in the immense bed.

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	55. Dream

Sayid was dreaming. He dreamed that he sat up, glancing lovingly at James next to him in the immense bed.

Suddenly there was another in the bed, beside James, turned away from him, hidden in the shadows.

“It is not me,” Ben said from behind him, sitting in the desk chair. Sayid turned his head towards the gentle squeak of the chair as Ben's weight shifted slightly.

When Sayid looked back at the bed, he was standing next to it, looking down. The two figures were as still as statues, entwined now, shrinking and melting into each other.

“James!” he called out, reaching down for James, who was dwindling away. He pulled James' shoulder, which rotated towards him, melting into the bed.

Just as James melted away, Sayid saw clearly that the face of this figure was Ben. Then the bed was empty.

As though floating, Sayid turned slowly to the desk chair, finding it empty. He looked around at the room, now empty, with dead leaves and dust in little piles made by the wind. He looked again. Completely empty. Sayid felt a heart breaking loss.

As he felt himself unmoored and lurching about in a pressing darkness, he managed to walk towards the temple, pushing against the darkness, his lungs burning from the strange air, cloying and sweet. There he saw the tray of lights flickering before the Shiva Nataraj, though the rest of the temple was black. He pushed harder, struggling to reach the lights, to find something he knew in the now empty cave of his home.

He began to melt, becoming more liquid, dispersing onto the rock floor, then reabsorbed into a tiny pearl of blue light, dancing at the center of his vision. _I will disappear,_ he thought, feeling a terror, which quickly turned to loss.

 _Where is my Jacob? How will I ever see him again?_ He cried out in his heart.

 _Where are you Jacob?_ He was calling out, a cry of urgent need. _Jacob!_

There was no answer. He had lost everything. _All is lost... All for nothing..._ he thought, remembering the long months of waiting as the last of him melted away.

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX: Grace** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381235/)

James opened his eyes, his face soft and knowing as he walked to Sayid.

“Come, my love,” he said raising his hand.

 _He's going to do that..._ Sayid thought as James' hand covered his eyes, his other hand lightly upon Sayid's arm.

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	56. Grace

“Sayid. Sayid...” said a familiar voice. Sayid felt a hand on his shoulder, lightly rocking him awake.

Sayid was wrapped up in the knotted bedding, sweaty and hot. James sat on the side of the bed, holding a little lamp with the steady flame in the predawn stillness. It was earlier than they usually arose for their ritual bath, and Sayid sat up on his elbows, watching as James stood and gathered up their bathing supplies in their little net sack.

Sayid swung his legs over the edge of the bed, arranging the bedding so that it could air out. He turned and saw a black shape barely visible in the darkness, disappearing through the arch into the temple, James standing at the archway, waiting for Sayid, his eyes strangely dark and distant.

Sayid did not speak, and the dark figure was gone.

They stepped out into coolness, then walked up the path, slipping through the enchantment of the gate of stone and stopping for a moment to enjoy the salty freshness of the sea and the gentle lap lap of the low and changing tide. Then they turned back to the familiar path up along the stream, and followed the dark water until they approached the pool and the slight cascade of water that poured into it.

Sayid slipped into the cool water, cold and pure from a journey through deepest rock and sediment. He slipped his head under the water, the sound of the waterfall a subtle roar, almost a hum. He felt his hair behind him, undulating like seaweed. The flow of the water pushed against his face, and with his eyes firmly closed, he turned inside, returning to his dream, feeling it again. _Where are you Jacob? Was that you my love?_ He felt again the little splitting feeling in his heart, a tightness stretching, then breaking in little bands, slowly loosening the bindings of his heart.

After bathing, the sky just light, his clean hair long with the rivulets of water still falling through his thick curls, James was waiting for him, his face serious. He extinguished the little lamp and left it with their things. James looked at the stream then, his gaze unfocused, then his eyes closed, his head turned slightly, his body motionless. He seemed to be focusing upon something unseen, waiting for some sound or signal of approach.

James opened his eyes, his face soft and knowing as he walked to Sayid.

“Come, my love,” he said raising his hand.

 _He's going to do that..._ Sayid thought as James' hand covered his eyes, his other hand lightly upon Sayid's arm.

Instantly they were someplace much more light, with a brisk breeze that cut into Sayid's wet and bare skin. James' hand came away from Sayid's eyes and he was awed again by The Signal, their name for the highest point on the Island, a vantage from which the entire island and the ocean that surrounded it were visible. Sayid turned slowly, taking in this just light view upon all sides, then looking upon the visible parts of the Island, the grand and steep mountain tops that dropped from view near the beaches, slipping into dark valleys unseen behind the steep curves of the larger ridges.

James waited as Sayid turned slowly, then stepped behind him, caressing him, grasping him and pulling him against his chest and belly, his arms around the smaller man.

They stood together, relaxed and content. James knowing fully what was about to happen, and Sayid knowing not at all. Sayid only knew that something was being made this moment for him, and all that he need do was to accept it. He felt a surge of gentle bliss rising and falling within his body, like his breath, like the fluctuations of the wind, reassuring and sweet.

“I will...” he whispered on the breeze, hearing the sounds change as they danced away, down from the high place into the deepest green places of the Island below.

 _It is their hearts that beat as one_ , he thought, feeling James' heart glowing behind his own, a connection made from grace.

 _It is grace that I'm feeling_ , he thought, picturing the good will of the Island rising to meet them, to hold them up, then bring them down again, following with each step, each touch upon a living being disguised as a tropical island, like any other Island, hidden in plain sight.

“Who _are_ you?” he whispered aloud, waiting for the Island's answer. He expected a human's reply, and then asked himself once again if the brothers were still human, and how long it had been since they became something else.

James stepped back then, turning Sayid around, then carefully placing his foot solid upon Sayid's feet, he leaned into his weight upon them. He smiled at Sayid, his eyes so close, dancing with magic, the magic of his soul.

"Don't be afraid, Sayid. You can only leave behind and _receive_ in this way..."

Sayid nodded, still completely unaware of what James would do.

With one swift motion, James used his body to push Sayid as hard as he could, his arms extending as Sayid fell off of the cliff alone, falling backwards, then head down, certain that he was to die, that this was the moment when he would cease to exist.

His fall accelerated so quickly that it was hard to take his last breaths, and managed one word while he yet could breathe: “Jacob!”

Immediately his descent stopped and he was buoyed back up, lightly ascending. He felt his being remade, a sort of liquid softness that turned this way and that as he ascended the huge cliff, James coming into view as he continued up and away from him.

James laughed. “Come back,” he yelled, whooping. “Sayid! Sayid!” he called out, doing the funny dance he had made up for Sayid's amusement, turning about as he watched Sayid flying upward.

“Ohhhhhh,” Sayid said as the Island got smaller.

“Sayid,” said a voice at his ear. Sayid grabbed onto the source of that voice.

“Ohhhhhhhhh....” Sayid said, clinging to James. He felt reassured enough to look down, to make sure he was not dreaming. James' held Sayid, and their ascent slowed until they had stopped, no longer rising.

Sayid began to relax. James' strong grip on him reassured him, and he was more calm now that they were no longer ascending.

“I know what you love most, my beloved,” James said, his lips at Sayid's ear.

“Jacob,” Sayid said and James squeezed him with delight.

Sayid was beginning to understand, just slightly, the point of throwing him off of cliff before he knew that he could fly.

“The Island would have caught you,” James said. "But then it would have required something else from you, a different test."

Sayid felt suddenly that a conversation while flying was unacceptable.

“What of the fuck...?” he said, clinging to James, adding several choice words in Iraqi Arabic.

James laughed at Sayid's mangling of English cursing. He held Sayid's hand with an iron grip as he danced about.

“Nooooo...” said Sayid, trying to get James' arm back around him.

“Sayid, let go...” James instructed. “I will not let go of your hand.”

“Filthy Americans...” Sayid said. He was unaware that he had slipped into Arabic. He extended his arm slowly, still grasping James' outstretched hand tightly. Nothing happened.

Sayid's fear began to subside, and was just slightly replaced by a giddy feeling of invincibility.

“Careful, Sayid.” James said, holding his hand even tighter.

“Yes, we should be careful,” Sayid began to laugh, and James laughed with him.

The two men grabbed each other, trying to kiss when they were lost in laughter, trying to dance when they were far from their element.

Sayid was freezing. “Next time with clothes,” he said.

James reached towards his eyes.

“Oh, here we are going...” Sayid said in Arabic, closing his eyes.

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN: Only once** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381256/)

Sayid looked up and saw the last of the strange clouds that sheltered the smaller island lifting, and felt a surge of wonder and curiosity about their destination as they reached the place where the water stopped and the Island began.

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	57. Only once

Sayid and James were flying, their arms reaching to each other with a strong clasping of their hands. But they weren't flying in any way Sayid could understand. The world seemed to spin around them, so that it all appeared to be two-dimensional, held in place at the center. Sayid still “saw” the geography, well enough to willingly skim above it without fear of running into the intensely steep cliffs of home, moving like the bones of an Island creature just below him.

There were several moments when the Island came up towards them in a sudden rush, tilting into them, so that they at last passed through this surface world and entered a completely dark world where the air passed over his body in flight, and Sayid still grasped James' hand, warm and alive.

Deeper, a place that felt deeper... were they even moving? Then so suddenly still. Sayid could not feel his body. He felt alone and tried to call out to James, but he could make no sound. Then he felt James' touch on his arm, and he felt his body again, a searing pain on his arm from this touch.

“Sayid,” said a voice. Sayid could not answer.

“Sayid...” the voice was louder, commanding. Still Sayid tried, but could make no sound.

“Sayid.” His name had a power, the emanating force of a spoken word, and Sayid found and followed that force, tracing to its beginning, his source. He touched that place, now inside of him, feeling himself enveloping the entire Island, the center of the world and all beyond it, spinning in a silent dance too strange to remember.

 _I remember_ , he thought. He remembered these _inner_ places from before, when he had followed the sparks of his awakening energy out into the universe and back again. He could not tell if he was still or moving in relation to his surroundings. Then he felt a profound change of scale that rendered all that was close or far away eternally moving in relation to everything else.

At that moment, he felt himself absorbed by the Island, the place in his center that was not moving, that was still to him.

Instantly, he opened his eyes, cradled in James' arms as they floated so gently above the water, skimming just above the golden light of morning reflected there, the sea air fragrant and touching as spray, moist on Sayid's skin.

Sayid looked up and saw the last of the strange clouds that sheltered the smaller island lifting, and felt a surge of wonder and curiosity about their destination as they reached the place where the water stopped and the Island began.

James hesitated, facing the glowing cliffs above. "This is where we approach, to honor and worship as we climb up to the temple," James explained.

"A temple..." Sayid became more alert. Up and up they climbed, moving towards the upper reaches of the Island, tall walls of stone that fell straight away to the sea and on into the depths, where Sayid knew it joined with the larger island.

Sayid realized that he was no longer holding James' hand. James flew next to him, eyes closed, his body turning slightly as they ascended slowly, so that he came around again and was facing the steep black rock with it's living cloak of brightest green.

“My love,” Sayid said, ecstatic. He noticed the sound whipped away by the wind, but heard James' answer, _inside_ : “My love...”

They slowed, and James' reached for Sayid's hand as they reached a solitary ridge that was flat and long, a horizontal shelf, deeply green and covered with large trees. At the end of the shelf it curved around, stopping at a large ravine surrounded by little trees, with the ravine bottom a familiar line of lighter stone that looked like sand from the distance, lining the downward path of the water when it rained.

Sayid saw right away the familiar square opening in the rock, carved so similar to the facade of their own temple, their home.

They alighted on the grassy place in front of this opening. Sayid immediately fell down, and then joined James in laughing at himself, and the delicious fun of learning what is least expected.

James fell down next to him and they lay on their backs, laughing and sighing as the low sun of morning playing with the breeze in the treetops.

Sayid felt a new kinship with the trees, who knew the air in a way he had not known it before. He felt very acquainted with these places now. He also felt a tiny circular wobble in his world, unsettling, his awareness expanded so greatly, both below, and now above the Island, somehow all connected.

After a time, he adjusted to this new mapping of his world and sat up. James got up and gave him his hand, pulling him to his feet.

“You will only have to do these things once, Sayid,” James repeated with a reassuring smile, squeezing his arm. "I think that is best for your safety," Sayid mused, and James laughed, enjoying Sayid's teasing about tossing him off the Signal.

James turned then towards the dark temple arch, looking back at Sayid, beckoning for him to follow as he turned away, and climbed the steps.

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT: Never again** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381280/)

They stood inside, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dark, and then passed through another, much larger arch opening to a large temple with windows high in the rock, filling the space with a golden, soft and sunny light dancing with sunbeams.

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	58. Never again

They stood inside, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dark, and then passed through another, much larger arch opening to a large temple with windows high in the rock, filling the space with a golden, soft and sunny light dancing with sunbeams.

Sayid was overcome with a mix of awe and exhilaration, release and denied sadness as he first took in the huge sitting Buddha that appeared to hold up the entire front of the temple, and at the base of this Buddha stood the one that he loved, that he needed forever, whom he would now establish forever in the temple of his heart.

He felt weightless, barely touching the polished rock, whisper soft beneath his feet as in a dream he went to his Jacob. Jacob who was moved to tears, Jacob who held his arms out to Sayid, kissing Sayid's face and lips and forehead and hair.

“Jacob, my Jacob...” Sayid said over and over, hugging Jacob, feeling his familiar energy, smelling his familiar scent, playing with his spiky hair and beard, now longer, his boyish hair always full of sand.

“Sayid, my Sayid...” Jacob answered, petting Sayid, allowing Sayid to grasp and pull and stroke at his whole body, naked as Sayid's. They gently fondled each other's genitals, loose and soft, and played in the hair on their chests and abdomens, tickled and scratched each others back as they each liked, with the familiar knowledge of lovers.

Time passed and Sayid would not let Jacob go. James appeared next to them, and both men opened their arms, welcoming him into their blissful embrace.

Finally Sayid was still against Jacob, rocking very gently, taking it all in. _This is real..._ he reassured himself, his soul quenched.

“Never again, Jacob,” he said softly. “Never again.”

“Never again,” Jacob replied.

Jacob turned to James then, and and Sayid let go a little, so that they embraced for some time, speaking to each other softly, rubbing each other's back and head and hair.

“You chose well, my brother,” James said when they stepped apart at last.

“Yes,” Jacob answered. “Yes I did.”

The two men stood smiling at Sayid, admiring his sincere interest in learning from them, his curiosity and patience for understanding, and openness to what was happening to him.

“Come,” Jacob said as he led Sayid to the foot of the Buddha, where offerings, candles and incense were arranged. The Buddha's left hand was relaxed, resting palm up in his lap. The right arm, also relaxed, traversed his lap with the fingers of the bent hand just touching the pedestal, the earth.

“ _Bhumisparsha_ ,” Jacob said. One word. Sayid had seen Buddhas such as this one in the hangings on the walls of their own temple, but had never asked what this posture, or _mudra_ , meant.

 _Already we have returned to teaching_ , Sayid thought, smiling.

“Only what is real can bear witness. Discrimination, skillful means,” Jacob said, gesturing with his right hand, dropping his own hand downward, pointing at the earth. “Wisdom,” he added, curling his left hand softly at his abdomen.

Then Jacob turned and _pranamed_ for a moment _,_ bowing low to the murti, whispering, lost in worship for just a moment. Then he stood in a way that communicated great purpose to Sayid, who touched his own heart as Jacob touched his. 

[ **CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE: I will** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381286/)

Finally Sayid's knees gave way and the brothers caught him, lifting him, soothing him so that he relaxed into their arms, letting go of it all, letting them be what he lived for, letting their pleasuring move through him and the parts that would pleasure them in return.

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	59. I will

Jacob smiled as he gestured for James and Sayid to follow him. Sayid could tell that James was concentrating, was preparing for something, choosing a greater purpose in following Jacob, their leader. Jacob led them through a small arch into a large room with a bed and a desk, and with the same style of high windows as their rooms on the big island providing ventilation and a soft, golden light.

The room was lit with several candles, and food was laid out on a low circular table with cushions around it.

 _You knew that we were coming, that I was coming... my beloved,_ Sayid thought, overcome with a new tenderness for his reunion with Jacob.

There were goblets, and a bottle of wine. Cheeses, berries and other fruit, little crunchy biscuits and chocolate were arranged with little plates in a stack, cloth napkins, and special little lamps that smelled of honey.

Sayid noticed long lengths of silk on the bed and guessed their purpose, lifting one, finding the arms of an exquisite robe of burgundy silk, Jacob's gift. Jacob slipped into a purple robe, bringing the dark gray robe to James.

The three men sat, arranging their cushions. They managed to eat slowly, and the brothers chatted softly between bites about small matters, and some strange observations regarding Jacob's time away that puzzled Sayid, though he only listened. He savored an opportunity to watch his two lovers talking with each other. They were both glowing, so obviously happy to be sharing their world, catching up.

Sayid was careful to eat a light meal, hungry as he was for food other than mangoes and fish. He closed his eyes with a square of the chocolate on his tongue and then closed his mouth, the taste a sonnet, a mountain summit, a visceral display of inner fireworks. He did this a few times, closing his eyes each time. When he opened his eyes, Jacob and James were sitting without moving, their eyes focused on him.

“What?” he said, looking down, then holding his hand up for inspection. He wouldn't have been surprised if he was all green, or covered with fur.

The two men said nothing. They were sitting close together, shoulder to shoulder, and Sayid could see then that their hands were entwined against the floor.

Sayid felt that their gaze changed him, so that several moments later they both smiled at the same time, satisfied. They arose together, allowing the silk to slip off like the breath from a silent kiss. They gestured for Sayid to stand, clasping his hands, pulling him up to them.

Sayid was electrified by their touch, and could not hold still. He felt like a fish jerking about in heavy water, only the more firmly on the hook. They grasped Sayid to them, three become one, and Sayid could feel their fire, their vast reserve of energy rippling under his struggle, strengthening his will to reach them, curling over his skin as pure pleasure. He opened to their insistent touch, feeling no fear or pain, only the knowledge that he would die if they stopped too soon, and the trust to say _yes_ , to know that they would not.

Sayid felt himself floating in a place of a sure knowledge, sure of his brothers, with whom trust was totally and lovingly given and shared.

As in a dream, the brothers brought Sayid with them to the large bed, with little lamps in various openings along the wall. They disrobed him slowly, the silk pulling smooth across his skin. They remained standing, each taking a turn at holding him up, watching as the other brother touched him, inspecting and claiming his every place and part, the subtle and the hidden, smelling and kissing and inspecting. They listened for the changes in Sayid's breathing as they each cradled his genitals, smelling and tasting the skin there, smooth and soft, loose and warm.

Finally Sayid's knees gave way and the brothers caught him, lifting him, soothing him so that he relaxed into their arms, letting go of it all, letting them be what he lived for, letting their pleasuring move through him and the parts that would pleasure them in return.

They laid Sayid carefully on the center of the bed, moving and turning to be most comfortable as they stroked his body, lightly and firmly, whisper soft in the most sensitive places, enthralled by his moans and movements of pleasure.

There was a pause, and Sayid opened his eyes. The bed dipped towards him as the brothers leaned over him, joining in a kiss very close to his own lips, theirs soft and brushing together with tiny flicks of their tongues just visible in the low light. They brought their lips to Sayid then, with the same soft brushing and little tastes of each other's tongues, tasting of the wine and chocolate, kissing him together and taking turns.

“Sayid...” they whispered at his ears, brushing aside his curls with their breath and noses between kisses. “ _Sayid_...”

They moved down together and grasped the base of his cock gently, then licked either side of him, up and down and up and up, over and over together, then kissing on and around his cock, taking turns with sucking the head, and further down, both moaning as their excitement mounted.

“Follow us, Sayid...” they whispered as they sat up, their hands still on his cock. “ _Follow us_...” Sayid heard these whispers, and his mind ruled by his senses very slowly came to focus on the words, then to wonder what they meant.

“I will....” he said. “Show me.”

The brothers sat up, and Jacob gently rolled Sayid over, lifting under his hips, sliding under them, positioning himself with his legs folded flat against his belly, Sayid against him, his weight held on Jacob's legs. James brought the little jar of oil, and poured a liberal amount of the oil onto his hand again and again as he smoothed this oil onto Sayid's penis, so sensitive and hard.

Then James played a little with his well-oiled fingers at Jacob's opening, sliding his finger in a little, hearing Jacob's inhalation of pleasure, again and again. Then he grasped Sayid's cock and slid the head into place, teasing them both, holding it so for several moments.

James held Sayid just so as he pushed very slowly against him, laying onto Sayid's back, controlling the force and speed of his entry into Jacob. He pushed until they were completely joined, then pushed more, urging them to a new depth of penetration, holding them there.

Sayid felt James' fingers at his own opening, and realized that James had oiled his own cock as well. Sayid had never experienced this lovemaking with two men at once, and pictured how they looked from above, surrounded by the little lamps, the light rippling on the motions and the progress of a slow, purposeful movement of joining.

Slowly, slowly James entered Sayid, pulling slightly a couple of times to even the places saturated with the slippery oil, a slow plunge that Sayid communicated to Jacob through the flexing of his body and the movements of his cock inside of him.

Jacob sighed, and James answered. They both wiggled against Sayid, holding him.

 _They have me between them_ , Sayid thought, again and again. _They need me here, between them_... he did not know what that meant.

“ _Yes_...” said James when Sayid began to move, finding the rhythm, pushing in and out of Jacob, while pulling off and back onto James. James and Jacob both stopped then, accepting his fucking motions, bracing against them so that they became effective and rhythmic, a passionate slapping sound, loud in the silence, and intensely arousing.

Sayid found himself fucking the two men that he loved. Fucking and being fucked by them. He felt something inside of him fall away. Something he knew well, but would never miss or even remember. There was only _now_ , and these were the parts of him, three as one. _Let it always be so..._ he prayed, a prayer that became a vow.

The intensely aroused men began driving as one to their peak, slipping into an uncoordinated motion that only worked half the time for any one of the lovers, but sent them all into a new level of passion, their breathing labored and mixed with gasps and moans, rising on their joy, on the need to slip over the top and find release and relief.

Sayid felt the two brothers slowing so slightly, listening, listening to each other's sounds. Somehow he knew this, and listened to them.

“ _Sayid_...” Jacob whispered. Sayid was floating on the hot, liquid pleasure of Jacob's desire for him, spoken as his name. He felt that Jacob was speaking of him to James, that James understood this sentence made with one word.

“ _Sayid_...” James answered, a serious reply of love already promised, the syllables clipped and breathy hot from his passion.

Sayid felt that these two men could now speak for his heart.

“James...” Sayid said slowly, matching the measured ecstacy in his pushing into Jacob. “Jacob...” he loved this name, and felt that he was joining their conversation, hearing the vow in his heart given voice in this word.

“Jacob...” he whispered as he was overcome, swooning with passion, again feeling something inside of himself falling away.

They reached for the place of slipping over the top then, soon gasping and crying out with pleasure, the sounds of three boys crying out, of three men moaning in a low, guttural complaint, undone by the pleasure, falling at last from the passion into a moist and heaving tumble on the bed.

They fell away and beside each other, their deep breaths lent to dissolving sighs. Sayid with his eyes closed listened to this familiar give and take with the unseen union of darkness and air. He listened, and found that these currents were alive, finding him every time his brothers loved him, speaking his name.

“ _Sayid_...” “ _Sayid_...” they whispered. “ _Follow us_...”

“ _I will_...” he answered again, giving himself to this divine current, made of love.

They moved as one to stand and lift Sayid from the bed, carrying him across the room. His legs pushed but would not pull, so that they dragged on the floor, the tops of his feet sliding behind him on the smooth rock, his head lolling about slightly. He tried to see where they were going, but saw only rock. He knew that it was an illusion, and the brothers swept it aside in a gentle wash of brief energy from their waved hands, a slight blue glow trailing as the rock disappeared and opened onto a small, completely dark passageway.

The men carried Sayid into this darkness and on into the unseen path through massive rock, stopping to help him walk again as his muscles regained their coordination. Sayid felt himself led along through blackness, as in a dream, his movements an answer to their will for him, that he walk with them as one who was theirs, as he had been for many days now, and now more so than ever, with every step.

Then Sayid noticed a tiny glow that grew around him. He was standing alone, then made out two figures, completely dark, waiting for him it seemed. They stepped apart, and Sayid could see a halo of blue light escaping from an opening in the floor. They reached to him, and Sayid walked up to the light, peering down.

“No...” he said, suddenly afraid. But he was already falling slowly into that light, and his lungs and skin burned where it touched his skin and his breath.

So relieved, Sayid realized that the two men had slipped into the opening with him between them, falling into an unseen depth below, the air rushing past them as they fell. And yet, Sayid was falling in slow motion, slipping through the light, feeling its _presence_ , its _touch_.

“Jacob...!” he called out, squeezing the pair. Immediately he felt an immense love holding him, soothing him, dissolving his boundaries, accepting him into itself, a presence made of love and light.

 _I am here_ , said a voice in his heart. Sayid knew this voice, deepest ocean, _the one far below_... and now that of each of the brothers, all as one.

"It all springs from You," he whispered aloud, his words meant for Jacob.

“Follow me,” said the voice, bringing every part of him into the present.

“I will,” Sayid answered. He felt that everything he had ever desired was met in that moment, and by one thing.

Divine love.

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY: Closer than close** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381298/) ****

Sayid was wet, and his mouth rasped with the alkaline taste of sediment, crunching slightly between his teeth. He realized his eyes were closed and opened them. There was no difference. Then he noticed tiny dots of light rippling above him, magical. They seemed alive in the close darkness.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	60. Closer than close

Sayid was wet, and his mouth rasped with the alkaline taste of sediment, crunching slightly between his teeth. He realized his eyes were closed and opened them. There was no difference. Then he noticed tiny dots of light rippling above him, magical. They seemed alive in the close darkness.

He sat up carefully, reaching towards the little lights, finding them to be out of reach. He turned slowly, feeling an unseen rivulet of flowing water just touching his feet. A gentle flow of air moved over his wet and naked skin. He looked up, finding nearby an almost hidden opening where a steady light just caught the surface of the moving water, reflecting the tiny ripples of light sourced from beyond, beckoning him.

He stood, and walked across the little flow of water toward the source of the lights, a beautiful blue light.

The dark floor of the cave was silky smooth under his feet, the path of the silent water flowing, and Sayid kept his eyes on the light as he made his way to it, then crouched down to touch it, gently swirling the water with his fingers, his impulse to smell the water, bringing it to his nose, instead placing his fingers cool and sweet upon his lips, a soft kiss.

Immediately the low archway seemed to open around him, and he stood, somehow finding himself near the center of a much larger cavern gently bathed in the subtle blue light, shimmering as though reflected from a circle of unseen water. He stood in a little stream that was channeled outward in a little dip in a large circular structure in the rock. In the center of this structure, which seemed to have been hewn as one being from the living rock, there was large column of a different stone, inky black, its surface perfectly smooth, its shape slightly rounded at the top and perfectly round from top to bottom.

Sayid recognized these carved symbols of the divine from his familiarity with Hinduism, and especially the Shaivism of Northern India, near his home in Pakistan.

“It is a _shiva lingam_ ,” he said quietly, his voice close and amplified in the cave. He looked up, where he could see that there was a gentle waterfall, a continuous trickle of water from an unseen source in the darkness above. This water bathed the entire _lingam_ with a continuous flow of water, so that the the column of black glistened with tiny touches of the blue light on the sheeting water, appearing to dance slightly, to shimmer as though alive.

Sayid heard his own intake of breath as he was overcome by the knowledge of _presence_ , of divine presence in a divine and secret place, revealed to him, _present with him._

 _Thou..._ He could only pray, reach out with his heart.

 _Thou..._ he reached out with the fullness of his heart, _knowing_ an all encompassing being of love, beyond sacred, beyond form or words... 

He knelt and made _salat_ with his forehead in the cool water, his lips moving, wet from the water just below them. _A way to make worship,_ his thoughts were almost gone. _Is worth more than all that is precious._

He found a kindling of deeply familiar warmth and love in his heart, something always there, mislaid, now expanding endlessly within him. He _knew_.... and was known. 

_Allah..._ _My God._ He would never forget again.

Sayid's consciousness, far flung and unbounded by creation, came back to the cave, his body slipping around him as consciousness, his consciousness returning with a certain taste on his tongue, a sweet current slipping through him as a single breath, a sudden sigh.

 _Here_ was his forehead against the rock in the sweet water. He sat up. He had gone through a day's worth of prayers, a lifetime of prayers. Lifetimes...

 _"I am still here..." he whispered. You are still here..._ He had never been alone.

Sayid pictured the Island from above, coming up to him as he flew down to it, a most beautiful form of the divine. _I am yours,_ he offered himself, filled with a new purpose. _I will..._ he felt his willingness sweep through him, creating a certain freedom.

Sayid looked around, making a memory of every part of the cave. _No one approaches this place_ , he looked up at the place where the blue light gave way, the walls dissolving into the darkness of the unseen. _A cave with no entrance._ _A hidden place, always present._

 _The cave of the heart,_ a familiar phrase from Hinduism. _There is no place more sacred than this place_. _A_ _nd yet... it is always closer than close._

Sayid realized that he was laying in the little stream, his knees tingling from kneeling on the wet rock, his wet hair swimming around his ears, the taste of the calcified, alkaline water on his lips and in his mouth.

He found that he was crying, silent tears slipping onto his wet cheeks, joining the water flowing with him and past him, a flow that he felt was assuredly made for him, his part of an endless sea, the flow of creation, made of love.

Sayid felt other currents slipping past him, tasting him, knowing him, loving him. He began to see images in his mind, golden, dancing images. Love as light. Candle light... and lamps. He recognized Jacob's little room, next to the temple on the smaller island. Was it still near?

Yes. James and Jacob were there, they were together on the bed, dancing with the movements of pleasure, of heightened desire and breathy intimacy, their eyes closed as they kissed, as they reached out to him inside. They were connected to him. They partook of his experience of this divine place.

“ _Sayid_....” he heard in his mind. Their love was made for him. They were joined in a passion. And their passion was the immense fire of purification which had burned away all that he had carried as a burden, all that he brought to this place, the Island.

Thoughts of his life there brought him back to his body, and the water flowing around him, over him. He was floating in the touch of this water, for it _touched_ him... it loved him, it was presence. It cooled the fires that had burnt so much away. The fires had purified him, prepared him. _For what?_

The presence as love flowed over him, through him, with pieces of him slipping away, memories and emotions that were limited and strange to him. He let it all go. Arise and dissolve. The flow... the flow...

 _My brothers..._ the brothers who were loving each other, that were loving him. He _knew_ the divine life force that sparked and burned in them as they joined, their bodies taught with the building pleasure, a slow and steady dance, shared, with no slowing, straight on... though the top was ever farther and farther, they were full of more pleasure and heat, more... and more.

 _This is how we are one._ Sayid stopped his thoughts, his understanding hovering, then nestling at last where his _want_ was prepared and waiting.

 _Sex?_ He knew it was true. 

_Sex is how I was prepared. It is how I have joined them... and have chosen to remain._ _Love completes us, our sex binds us to each other._ _That is why we can serve._

 _Who do we serve?_ he wondered then. He felt that he understood everything up to this moment, but nothing after.

“Who do we serve?” he said aloud, sure that the answer was now his.

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE: Something very different** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381313/)

Sayid lifted his head and looked at them, then around at the trees and the huge cliff of rock above the temple. He was there. Now he was here.

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	61. Something very different

Sayid was bent slightly, following the gently flowing water just deep enough to cover his feet. He felt along the rough walls of the little passageway, completely dark, completely silent. He didn't know where he was going, only that he knew this was his path, the only path.

After a time, he began to see a very tiny light shining in the distance, illuminating the walls and the flowing water of the passageway. The passage dipped, widening beneath the water. He could see the light clearly now, shining up from a distant, unseen opening. The top of the passageway dipped as it continued underwater.

He peered through the crystal clear water. A beautiful, clear light of golden green danced there, the essence of life itself. He could not tell how far to that light, or how large the opening, but there surely was an outlet for the water, a spring.

He stepped down into the deeper water, testing the current, then stood regulating his breathing, oxygenating for a dive, a skill he had learned as a soldier.

Sayid slipped under the surface, swimming with the current towards the light. Flowing, flowing the light getting brighter, the water so clear as it transported him back to life at the surface, a world coming to him as he dipped up at last through the surface of the water, a tiny wave rippling out from him as his head came slowly up out of the water and he could breathe again.

There was no one, no sound out of place. He was alone. The tiny ripples from him had found the far edge of a little pool in the shade of a rocky overhang hung with trailing creepers and vines, veiling Sayid's view of the green forest canopy beyond. 

Sayid waited, enchanted. Dragonflies dipped repeatedly upon the surface, then dancing together, disappeared as suddenly into the air above. Familiar birds sang and dipped in the nearby trees. A lone frog announced its presence, a single syllable song amplified by the little alcove, echoing on the still water.

 _What is different? What is the same?_ Sayid did not know.

 _Where am I?_ Sayid drifted to where the water tumbled over some mossy rocks, dancing away through the trees. He winced in the bright sun as he looked up at the blue sky, verifying the position of the sun, finding that the ledge was facing south.

Emerging from the pool, the air was misty and rich with fine water droplets. Guessing the source, Sayid walked into the little bit of jungle, stepping carefully without his shoes. Just as quickly the forest ended and Sayid emerged from it onto a rocky ledge, the water soaring as a little waterfall, misty soft in an updraft, finding its way at last onto dark rocks far below.

There was no way up or down from this oasis on a cliff, but Sayid felt no concern. He stood in the warm sun, feeling the water droplets gather on his skin, then running down, dancing on him, playing in the hairs on his face and down his arms and belly.

 _There is something different,_ he thought. _Something very different._

He looked around, up at the sky. The light was different, the focus of his eyes. He looked at his hands, his arms, legs and feet. _Something_...

He lifted a foot. Sayid stifled an exclamation of surprise, ever the soldier.

He lifted his foot again, just a little. Immediately he was lifted up from the ledge, just a little.

“I can fly,” he said quietly. "Without help." He was trying to arrange this knowledge in the neat, practical way of a man who organized everything this way.

Sayid experimented. He lifted his foot fully, allowing himself to drift up very slowly, so that his other foot came off of the ground and he was hovering in the air.

He remained for a few moments, finally allowing him self to be fully exhilarated and ready to....

 _To do what...?_ he thought, almost an aside.

Immediately he was back on the ledge. He promptly fell down.

He cursed in Arabic. He scooted back from the edge of the cliff, laughing at himself, laying back in the low grasses, looking up at the sky, which seemed to shimmer, to shimmer for him. After a bit, he sat up again, coming to his feet, remembering what he had done, how he had begun _to fly_...

He lifted one foot, and hovered lightly in the air, thinking about his next move. He kept his mind fully disciplined and focused on his new skill, deciding what to do next. _My intention is to...._

Immediately he was on the great ledge in front of the temple. He promptly fell down.

Two brothers roared with laughter, insulting his manhood. James obviously relished adding Sayid's favorite taunts in Arabic.

Sayid lifted his head and looked at them, then around at the trees and the huge cliff of rock above the temple. He was there. Now he was here.

“You need to work on your landing, _Dragonfly...”_ Jacob observed as Sayid got to his feet, rubbing his naked butt, brushing it off. He turned to them something new, someone new, and the brothers stood, walking to him, hugging him, pushing him affectionately, then grabbing affectionately, so that he pressed fiercely against them, stopping their hands, communicating his bliss, the ecstasy of reunion.

Sayid was thrilled as the brothers encircled him with their arms, holding him between them as they too became quiet, talking only with their eyes and their breath. 

At last they stepped back from Sayid, reaching their hands to him as they stepped slowly backwards, drawing him with their eyes. Sayid reached to them and felt an immense rush of energy coming up through the Island, through his body, his spine, his sexual places and his mind. None were different from the other.

They stopped and smiled, then closed their eyes, and Sayid closed his eyes as well, _knowing how_. He opened his eyes in their room, standing steady with his lovers in the rays of light from the windows above, their faces and eyes happy, their smiles and their touches on him a wordless delight in him and his new prowess.

Jacob turned to lift an old bottle sitting on the desk, filling three old glasses, handing one to Sayid and one to James.

“Drink, Sayid,” he said. Sayid drank the cool liquid, not quite water, not quite wine. The brothers savored theirs, and savored watching his reaction. For the second time in this day he felt a change in himself, in everything about him.

Sayid looked at Jacob, beginning at last to understand. Jacob waited, smiling at Sayid, waiting for the right moment to speak words reserved for a certain occasion, planned so... so many years before.

“Sayid. Sayid. My Say...” He looked into Sayid's eyes for a long moment, holding them with his own.

“Now you are like me.”

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO: Show me** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381334/)

Sayid realized he was crying, slow little tears of wonder slipping down his cheeks. He felt that _separation_ itself was taken away. Those who lived and loved beyond an inner boundary had brought him over, and were holding him in this new place, surrounding him as he learned how to remain so, and not slip back into limitation.

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	62. Show me

Sayid stood in the center of the room. Hi lovers were happy and relaxed, waiting for him, following his lead.

Sayid looked at the wall where the passageway had been only hours before. He could see the passageway beyond, though he could also see the rock that disguised it. Further down the passageway he felt again the bliss and pull of the blue light coming up through the rock, coming now to find him, never forsaken, never alone.

_What are they? What are we?_

Sayid touched Jacob, grasping his arm with his hand, feeling it. He could feel his hand touching Jacob, and Jacob's arm feeling his touch upon it.

 _Woah_ ... he thought. _Woah_.

Jacob stood as Sayid touched him in various places, lost in the combined sensations, mapping them inside, a new understanding to match a new world around and inside of him.

He rubbed Jacob's spiky tangle of hair, then breathed hot on his face as he brought his lips to Jacob's.

 _Sex_ ... Sayid thought. _Everything comes down to this joining._ He pressed his lips upon Jacob's so gently, Jacob's nose and open eyes so close as he opened his lips slightly, as Jacob opened his lips, offering him his tongue. There was a gentle dance, and Sayid became overwhelmed with pleasure and desire.

Jacob held him up, still looking into Sayid's eyes, bringing Sayid's lips back to his own.

Sayid felt a warm brush upoon his shoulders as James touched him, slipping behind him, his head against Sayid's neck, holding him against Jacob.

“I am here between you,” Sayid said.

Sayid became more confident that _this_ was real, that it was his, not just a moment followed by are return to _before_. He felt his body and mind melting in a pleasure and bliss beyond anything he had ever felt. He chose this, he allowed it, he claimed it.

“Where is Ben?” he murmured as the brothers kissed his face, his shoulders, his hair and his hands. _Why do I wonder?_ He thought.

 _Shhhhhhh_ the brothers said as they caressed him here and there so lightly with their hands, communicating their growing pleasure and desire.

Sayid still spoke, in between moans. “You are so old.... so... that you have joined completely.”

Jacob caught Sayid's lips with his own, giving Sayid intense pleasure as he communicated his own with the tiny movements of his lips and chaste tongue, eloquent and sweet.

“Will I join with you both completely? Some day...?” Sayid managed before slipping back into the gasps and moans of a gentle pleasuring.

“Yes, my love,” Jacob answered. He pressed his erection against Sayid's lower belly.

Sayid's sharp inhalation of breath and long, pressured moan communicated and caused the same level of excitement in both brothers, which was immediately answered by the same amplified feelings in his own body. Amplified again, and again.

Sayid could not hold back. He ejaculated against Jacob with an explosive surge and spurting with an unprecedented pleasure that was immediately shared and amplified between the three. Sayid was silent, standing completely still between the brothers as he squirted again and again, focused on the hidden movements in his testicles and penis.

Sayid felt limp, his legs ruined. The brothers took him to the bed, pulling back the covers, laying him like a child in the middle of the bed, joining him as his teachers and protectors, guardians of his potential.

Sayid's breath was still uneven as he floated in bliss, sighing over and over as his body was traversed by waves of ecstasy, his mind still and alive with pleasure, his body glowing as it found its rest.

“I am between you,” he murmured. The brothers nestled against him, silent.

“I know, at last...” Sayid managed to find words again. “Together we are separate, we are three. Without me, you are one...” he drifted, remembering the ecstasy of his orgasm, the sexual arousal returning with the memory, his mind almost finished with words, leaving them behind again.

_And the Island needs two... that is me. Everything has changed to include me. And you will be one._

The brothers lifted Sayid's arms, crossing their own arms behind his shoulders, turning towards him, laying their heads against his, the brothers each touching and stroking Sayid's arms, chest and belly.

“Sayid...” they said, almost whispering. “Sayid...”

Sayid closed his eyes, for he felt something unknown, he felt them inside, encircling him, gently nudging at his core, his center, seeking entrance.

Sayid closed a little to them, alarmed. He opened his eyes, focusing on the rock ceiling, the familiar patterns there. _What is happening to me?_

“Sayid...” Jacob said, his voice so sweet to Sayid. “Be like us...”

“Be like us...” James said, his lips at Sayid's ear.

Sayid felt a need to be joined with them, one that he had felt growing in him for some time, but did not understand.

“I will...” he answered quietly, opening and softening inside, _allowing_ and _welcoming_.

The brothers encircled him again, inside, seeking entrance to the center of his being, and slipping inside with a sure knowledge of what that meant, and what would be next.

“Oh...” Sayid said, his voice distracted, his eyes closed. He felt the brothers encircling without and within at the same time, and now joining him at the center, where they _knew_ each other. There were three currents of bliss, and they each tasted and felt a little different. Sayid was one of those currents, always between the other two.

“You are holding me,” he said, his voice giddy, wavering. “Between you...”

“Yes, Sayid,” Jacob said.

“Yes, Sayid,” James said.

Sayid realized he was crying, slow little tears of wonder slipping down his cheeks. He felt that _separation_ itself was taken away. Those who lived and loved beyond an inner boundary had brought him over, and were holding him in this new place, surrounding him as he learned how to remain so, and not slip back into limitation.

“The Island... _the love_...” Sayid was overcome with a profound, ever-expanding love that was also uniquely _his_ , made uniquely for him by the source of all love.

 _Be loved, our brother, our love,_ both men kissed and caressed him. _Come home, now, our lover, our brother. Be with us... Be like us... Sayid._

Sayid realized that the brothers were silent, that he heard their words inside.

 _I will... I will..._ Sayid felt an unmeasured gratitude, a feeling of arriving back home at last. This moment was something that he was most grateful for, forever, and something for which all he could do was to simply say _thank you_ over and over, in his heart, to his lovers, and to the Island, his source.

_I know what this is, I have been shown, and now I believe._

There was no more need of sleeping, dreaming or planning. Everything Sayid had ever experienced led him to this moment. If there was ever a time when he thought he would be something else, or that home was anything other than this.... he was mistaken.

 _Show me_... he said inside, to the brothers and to the Island.

_Show me._

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE: You can hear me** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381349/)

“I _know_ , _now_...” he said aloud. Sayid sat up, then looked at his two lovers under the covers, gazing at him with surprised delight, their mouths open as they waited for what was next.

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	63. You can hear me

Sayid was sure that he was not asleep, though perhaps he had been until this moment. He questioned all that he knew. He reached for destiny. He clawed at the cobwebs of doubt and desire that had obscured the many lifetimes of his story, the belief that his life was happening to him, that he controlled each moment.

“I _know_ , _now_...” he said aloud. He sat up, and looked at his two lovers under the covers, gazing at him with surprised delight, their mouths open as they waited for what was next.

Sayid turned and pulled the covers off of them, admiring their bodies in the golden light of afternoon. He touched them, and soon they shared his excitement. Sayid felt his strength, a physical delight. He rolled Jacob and James together, so that they faced each other. He took them, one in each hand, and began to stroke and play with them as they watched, as they flexed their hips and buttocks with pleasure and desire.

Sayid reached for the oil. He poured some into each of his hands, then grasped each of them firmly, moving very slowly, covering their cocks very slowly in oil with a certain steady sensation of oil meeting non-oiled skin.

The brothers arched, grasping each other, pulling their lips and their hips together in a strong kiss of mounting pleasure.

 _Sex is about communication,_ Sayid thought. _Communication of pleasure... makes more pleasure._

James and then Jacob looked at him, their foreheads together, eyes soft and partly lidded, lips slightly open.

 _You can hear me,_ he said inside.

 _Only if you desire it so,_ Jacob answered, looking down at his cock in Sayid's hand, and at James', who was larger and also thinner.

Sayid was unconcerned. _This_ was what was normal, and his birthright. _Thoughts are always known alone_ was a version of reality gone with the rest of it. He found himself with those he loved, beings as men, beautiful and unclothed, with the confidence and complete relaxation of immortality, the certainty that everything would happen again and again.

Sayid began to rub the two men's cocks against each other, their hips moving together, back and forth their cocks moving through Sayid's hands and up and down against each other, a firm and smooth dance.

Sayid felt their increased pleasure, and how it added to his own. Three excited lovers became so very excited, and Sayid scooted forward, with his hand adding his own cock to the little knot of excited pleasure as they rubbed and slapped against each other in a passion of just barely coordinated movements.

Sayid's muscles quivered, his body suddenly slack. He placed his hands on each of the brothers, urging them together. He lay upon them, and began to fuck their hands. They made a little tunnel for him out of their two hands, the intimate sounds of loving close between their bodies where Sayid joined them with tumbling hair and greedy lips.

He lay on the two men, making the perfect movements of fucking. The brothers pulled and pushed on him as he settled into a rhythm that made them all sigh with intense pleasure, the pleasure of three. Sayid braced fully on them as he abandoned himself to his pleasure, making the fierce movements of commitment to release, gasping at the perfect coordination of three who could be joined inside, who had become one.

Before he could resist, the brothers as one lifted Sayid, laying him on his back where he lay gasping and complaining, pulling on himself, seeking any little relief as he accused with his eyes, then threw his head back in a breathy acceptance of renewed pleasure, building from a new beginning. He felt that he had cast himself under the hands that caressed and massaged him, finding his deeper muscles and the places that connected, that worked in opposition, soothing them into a willing surrender as Sayid drifted, floating with a bliss that seemed to hang on the very air with the sounds and smells of loving, a heavy layer of the essence of pleasure, the essence of love.noisely

Jacob moved leisurely, grasping and kneeling between Sayid's legs. James pulled Sayid's shoulders up onto his lap, caressing his face and chest as he watched Jacob touch and caress Sayid. The brothers came together in a kiss over Sayid, grasping each other's lips and tongue with their own, kissing loudly over Sayid as Sayid stroked James with his hand, closing his eyes, listening to men's voices calling out in whispers, a surrender to the fierce demands of pleasure.

Sayid felt Jacob _there_ , felt the desire and need in Jacob from his insistent pressure against him, from the way Jacob moved in little teasing movements, a promise made with a tiny back and forth of measured pressure.

Then the brothers leaned together, kissing again above Sayid. Sayid watched them; a slow heat communicated with deliberate movements of intensity, the sounds of liquid shared, of passion shared. James slipped his fingers into Sayid's mouth, and Sayid sucked at them as James communicated the kisses with his hand, their pleasure rising, more concentrated, more subtle.

Sayid felt Jacob's hips against him again, pushing into him a little, then a little more. Jacob pulled back from James' kiss, pushing into Sayid just enough to make Sayid desperate for more. He pushed all of the way, bumping against Sayid, small little bumps, getting deeper, claiming Sayid, taking him.

There was a long moment.... James caressed Sayid, his fingers wet from Sayid's mouth as he teased at Sayid's nipples and rubbed his smooth chest and belly. Sayid could see that the brothers were looking at each other, a look of such smoldering passion that Sayid reached up to them, touching their faces, their lips, _beautiful_...

 _You have sex all the time, in every moment_... he said inside. Sayid was enchanted. He could feel now the endless waves of ecstasy that emanated from his being, and he could feel it in them, as they must feel it in him.

He could touch the two men with this pleasure whenever he wished, without moving, whether near or far, offer to them the pleasure and energy of sex emanating from the area above his genitals, his sexual center. He had never made love to another with this energy alone, without touching. He had never willfully combined the sex energy with the love energy of the heart. It had happened to him, a profound sharing experience with another. But now he could choose it, _cause_ it. And receive it as he gave it.

Choosing it felt like the missing piece of a lifetime, settling into place at last.

Jacob seemed satisfied with Sayid's moment of reverie. He smiled down at Sayid as he pushed harder into him with the fierce little bumps, each demanding comment, a moaning declaration of need, a complaint of heat rising, of pleasure undoing every habit of restraint.

“I love you,” Jacob said to Sayid. These words and Jacob's voice in pleasure set off a new level of pleasure in Sayid, and he reached to James, who bent to kiss him, a long slow kiss that went with Jacob's careful pace of intensity building, a carefully assembled mix of sensations that kept Sayid fierce, his body tight, his breathing rogue and wanton.

James sat up, and was watching, watching Jacob fucking Sayid, his brother's body wet with sweat, his skin flushed, his body tensing and dancing with the rhythms of sex. James was watching Sayid's reactions, and feeling his physical pleasure _inside_ , always learning more about how Sayid's body was made, what his physical form made of the sensations and movements of pleasuring.

Jacob slowed, then stopped, and Sayid watched him with fascination as he remained kneeling over him, still inside of him, his eyes closed, his breathing patterned by subtle movements inside of him. His pleasure in filling Sayid outpaced his need to fuck, and he stopped for a moment, breathing hard, eyes closed. He was alone in a passion, the need to do something to Sayid that made him a creature of only _his_ intentions, that he possessed. Sayid was _his_.

Jacob began again, his movements a deliberate communication of intention, of seeking release. The men's heat and abandon became a frenzy, and was instantly near a common release.

Sayid shook his head, his curls flying, his lips moving as he cursed and tensed. He sat up suddenly, pushing off of Jacob, then grasping Jacob by his neck, he pushed his head down to the bed, moving to kneel behind him. He entered quickly, pushing Jacob's ability to allow entrance, so that Jacob made a plea of painful passion, then a moaning reply of relief when the pain turned to pleasure, _to the moment most desired..._

The moment of destiny.

There was a current of melancholy in the brother's pleasure that Sayid felt through them.

“James... James...” Jacob moaned, his voice punctuated by Sayid's strong fucking movements. James scooted under Jacob, kissing him and stroking Jacob's cock as well as his own. With slow hypnotic kissing and rubbing of faces together, so familiar the brow and forehead, the nose and cheeks and lips... the brothers knew that the moment had come.

Not their moment, for theirs was passing. The moment of Sayid.

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR: Only one** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381379/)

Three men stood, watching as the red delight of the sun moved up and around them in steady retreat, promising another day, stepping back from a certain gentle sweep of night slipping up from the horizon, like a living creature made of darkness and the promise of certain lights, the stars.

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	64. Only one

James and Jacob were looking into each other's eyes as a concentrated, tangled knot of ecstasy surged in and through them, pushing out through the very air. Their orgasms together filled them with a wave of intense pleasure that alternated and rippled through them over and over, so that they felt themselves falling into each other without a sound, without a need or desire or quest unmet in each other, a form of forever.

They were reaching out to Sayid _inside_ , sighing, urging him with their love and presence, with their knowledge of his requirements for climax and where to find and answer them in his mind.

Sayid reached for his release, feeling the brothers' love holding him, pushing against him. They loved him and they loved his _pleasure,_ following it to its peak. He fell onto them with a jerking and grasping that went with a sudden frenzy of climax, a full course of _all_ that demanded as much from Sayid as it gave, a storm of pleasure, a rogue wave pulling him under, turning him over and over in the liquid dance of loving, bouncing him on the sheets like waves on the shore.

 _Sayid_ .... their voices, calling to him in his mind, violently still and empty of all but the pleasure... and a certain knowledge... _something that waited for him._

 _Sayid_... their voices...

Sayid opened his eyes. He was laying partly on them, and partly on the bed, looking up. The ceiling rippled with fire, flames of blue and yellow.

The brothers moved to lay on him, holding him down.

The entire room seemed burnt up by the flames, a little house of rock with an immense mountain of rock above and below it, burned and falling, disintegrated... _disappeared_.

Sayid was desperate to move, to meet the forces of destruction with his trained response to action. Everything was gone. He could not move.

Then it was dark and unknown, and there was a savage wind, biting and cold, so loud that there could be no words with sound.

“Jacob!” Sayid commanded, searching for Jacob's reply in his mind. It did not come.

“Jacob!” Sayid said again. He was pelted by a fierce rain, his hair in his eyes and mouth.

“James, my brother...” he cried to James.

He knew their withdrawal. He was alone. He was falling then, falling and falling through the darkness and driving rain.

“COME...” he heard inside. The rain blew from a different direction, stinging his eyes.

“COME, Sayid...” a voice commanded. It was Jacob.

“WHERE?” Sayid was wild with urgency, still falling, falling. He felt his trained instincts slipping back from fear, leaving only trust, confidence and freedom absolute. He accepted all that was new in him, and did not look back.

Sayid sat up on the bed, his hair and skin soaked with cold moisture, held by two brothers, holding him.

Two brothers helped Sayid move to the edge of the bed, then stand, finding his balance. They urged him subtly, and he walked. As they walked through the temple, Sayid regained some strength and coordination, striding with them, sure that he wanted what they wanted, went where they went, that it all somehow came to this.

He squinted in the golden light of sunset as they walked out to survey their view of the Island, and the liquid world beyond curving away to the sky. Two brothers remained a little apart from Sayid as he stood, finding a subtle rhythm in his calming breath, looking out over the smaller Island falling down to the white beaches, looking out over the ocean hugging the earth with no reason or concern. He turned then to the large Island beckoning to him from the West, near to where the sun was sinking slowly into the sea.

There was a very subtle bluish sheen to everything he looked at. Consciousness. Intelligence.

As Sayid looked at the world both near and far, tree and sky, grass and stone, he saw _nothing_ that was _not_ alive. It was all consciousness, a presence and an intelligence that dreamed, that dreamed everything, that made everything from its own being.

Sayid felt a breaking inside, as though he were an egg cracking, a sudden, single vision of movement followed again by stillness.

Three men stood, watching as the red delight of the sun moved up and around them in steady retreat, promising another day, stepping back from a certain gentle sweep of night slipping up from the horizon, like a living creature made of darkness and the promise of certain lights, the stars.

Sayid felt _breathing_ , the subtle movements of a single breath, in and out, a steady rhythm. He closed his eyes and merged with the place of this breath, _everywhere_ . A heartbeat, a pulse... _everything_...

As he breathed in, this breath was breathed out. As he breathed out, this breath breathed in.

There is only One, _there is only One_ ... he knew this, and recognized himself in everything he had seen or had not seen. He opened his eyes, glancing at his brothers, and _knew_ them. He remembered at last how he had become many, had created the illusion of multiplicity, a requirement for the ecstatic game of becoming that flowed from his infinite delight and playfulness, his unbounded intelligence and creativity.

_This is all made from the intelligence of one being, my source._

He turned his head to look. The brothers were smiling.

Sayid stood with his point of view as his constant. He _offered_ his senses and experiences as pleasure. He _offered_ his complexity as love to the undifferentiated being from whom he was made, the only being that was. He knew that every moment would now be his gift of love until he was at last taken back into his creator.

Sayid reached to his two brothers. He pulled them together against him, shoulder to shoulder, rubbing their backs as they watched together the last red light of the sun slipping up and over highest ridges at the Island.

“Tomorrow...” Sayid said, the brothers still standing shoulder to shoulder in the fading light, feeling the magic of the earth's motions. “I will take up the concerns of the Island.” He sensed again the melancholy mixed with happiness in the brothers' mood, the passing of something so old it seemed to exist as their very souls.

“My brothers...” Sayid turned, stepping back a little, looking at Jacob, then James. “Where is Ben?”

“He is waiting for you,” Jacob said. “At the base of the statue.”

Sayid looked at Jacob, remembering their first loving there, falling in love in a little outpost kept by those who protected an island.

“Ben waits... in our little cave?” Sayid was moved, wishing to protect something delicate and sweetly passionate, the coming together of two who were now one.

“My Say...,” Jacob reached to him, pulling him into his arms, his hand gentle on Sayid's neck as he spoke softly at his ear, “My love, you are mine, and I belong to the Island. Nothing here is ours.”

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE: A current of bliss** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381391/)

Sayid closed his eyes, and found the place that had gone with lifting his foot, a beginner's technique for a power he was only just beginning to explore.

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	65. A current of bliss

_Like falling in love all over again..._ Sayid felt saturated with love as he sighed and touched and touched and sighed with his two brothers who also caressed and kissed and loved him back. They lay on the bed for hours, hands clasped, skin to skin, drifting and waking with movements matching the sensuous rhythm of breaths and the furtive dance of their eyes, sometimes plainly offered, and sometimes shy, as humans are.

The men were dozing, and whispered between the little currents of sleep, the deeper breaths alternating with the sweetness of words, the confessions of lovers.

Sayid's bliss did not diminish, and this constant current of bliss had changed him, changed everything. Every moment he settled back into the One who lived inside him, his bliss soared yet again, and he belonged more each time to the source of that bliss and its agents, his brothers. The bliss was forever more than the sum of all he had ever belonged to before.

He lay upon the bed with his brothers, and knew then what he would be the moment he left this bed and went forth in the service of the Island.

Sayid's world was reordered. He felt light and playful. The fruit of his actions would remain always on the altar of his heart, a gift to his source, a form of worship. Each prize sought or reached for in himself he would give over to his source out of love. He knew only play, love, and duty, and he loved all three equally. Each moment would shape each of these in a certain measure. Each would be equally sacred when offered to his source as worship.

Sayid knew that the Heart of the Island was one with the Supreme. He was not surprised to learn that it pleased his creator to take shape in many ways, to form a multiplicity from the creator's being in every way, large and small. His personal form of the Supreme had found him, had bound him to the sacred place that lived as the Heart of the Island, his Creator as his heart's desire.

Jacob rolled away and lit a little lamp. The two brothers scooted from the bed, each moving as one who had a purpose. It was very early, and the breezes from the high canyons above flowed past the temple, a whooshing sound at the little windows still dark and unseen above.

Sayid enjoyed being alone, listening as the brothers attended to the temple, chanting and waving the little golden lamps in the little patterns made tall by the size of the temple, all framed by the dark arch of their room.

Still he remained alone, completely relaxed, but alert, listening to his own thoughts, following the currents of his impulses and feelings.

“I cannot wait,” he said aloud, not sure why he yet felt some reluctance. “I will go to him today.”

Sayid knew little of what his duty in service to the Island would be. He only knew that he was unfettered by limitations of movement, and all was revealed to him in the moment.

Sayid pictured Ben sleeping in the special little bed he had shared with Jacob, perhaps waking now and sitting on the cliff overlooking the dark water, waiting for the light to touch the Sentinel overhead.

When the brothers returned, they slipped into the silk robes, and Sayid sat up, reaching for his own. The three were smiling, as though having matching robes was a delicious conspiracy only they were aware of; one that remained as yet unnamed, a certain sweetness held in anticipation.

Jacob brought careful selections from his treasures brought from off-island, and they ate slowly, relishing the hearty food, then nibbling on the sugared dates, each with their focus relaxed and far-flung, a solitary wandering of three minds.

The birds had begun, and the windows above were just visible, a little string of squares lit by a strange combination of black shading to darkest blue, with the diamond stars still fully visible.

The three brothers dressed, and Sayid reflected for just a moment about the last time he had worn clothes. Jacob filled Sayid's little pack with food and a flask of water. He also enclosed a few delicate presents for Ben from himself. James communicated his well wishes for Ben, hinting at a visit as well.

They stood in front of the temple. The rosy morning tempered as the winds died down, and far below the endless lines of white sea birds flew past the island, some closer to the water than others, each in a direction somewhat different from others, so the lines of birds seemed to cross each other, then break into the swirls of descent that changed their color from stark white to gray upon the water.

Sayid turned to James and hugged him, then kissed him lightly, looking into his eyes with his own warm and reassuring. He turned then to Jacob, looking into his eyes as well, finding a certain parity, and waiting until Jacob hugged him, then found his eyes again as Jacob stepped back just a little, acknowledging with a small nod Sayid's new sovereignty, giving him his blessing.

Sayid noticed that Jacob was holding the little pouch that hung at his breast, and felt Jacob's blessing was somehow related to the mysterious contents. _I have never asked you about it_ , Sayid thought, content to have guarded this important little token of his lover's privacy.

Sayid closed his eyes, and found the place that had gone with lifting his foot, a beginner's technique for a power he was only just beginning to explore.

Instantly he stood on the beach near the statue, looking out to sea.

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX: What we share** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381412/)

Ben was a mound of curled up covers, his breath soft and even. Sayid set out some food for Ben and the little presents from Jacob, then returned to the beach, sitting in one of the little seats dug out from the sand, remembering again how his eyes had drifted out over the water and back again to his new lover's eyes, bluer than blue. They had shared this view, and that had forever changed it.

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	66. What we share

Sayid stood alone on the beach, looking out to sea. He stood in the morning shade, his hair lifting and lazing on the cool breeze. He was remembering _then_... when two lovers were finding their way to each other again and again, the sweeter way back to that one who had become home, like the sure course of sea birds returning with unerring certainty to their roosts.

At last Sayid turned to the statue, his bare feet crunching in the cool sand as he sought the way between the square base and the sea, following the little path that immediately turned and zigzagged up the rocky cliff, his sure feet sending little crunchy bits of scree down the rocks below him, announcing his approach.

“Ben...?” he said when he reached the ledge. There was no answer, and Sayid allowed himself the slightest touch _inside_ to find out if Ben was there, careful not to disturb him.

Ben was there, and Sayid guessed that he was still asleep. He smiled at Ben's nonchalance, that he could sleep in on the day when he knew Sayid would be coming.

He entered the cave, still dark in the early morning light. He closed his eyes... finding again the smell of damp rock, the muffled sounds of the waves... finding again the memories of his lovemaking with Jacob, the long moments and changing light of this place of loving.

Ben was a mound of curled up covers, his breath soft and even. Sayid set out some food for Ben and the little presents from Jacob, then returned to the beach, sitting in one of the little seats dug out from the sand, remembering again how his eyes had drifted out over the water and back again to his new lover's eyes, bluer than blue. They had shared this view, and that had forever changed it.

Sayid looked up, squinting in the bright morning light as Ben approached. They shared a smile, and Ben nestled into the other seat as quickly and efficiently as Sayid had once found an instant, practiced comfort on his couch at home in Iraq. Ben was still munching on Sayid's gift of breakfast, and offered some of the delicious smoked salmon, Jacob's favorite and so a regular treat from his travels. Sayid took a small piece, though he was not hungry.

Ben made conversation. “Will you go off island?” he asked casually, watching Sayid's response to an irrelevant question, casually wiping his hands together. He turned a little to Sayid, studying him, finding what was essential, guessing what had endured, that which he might use in his friend.

Sayid did not answer. Ben knew from this that Sayid meant to begin right away. _That's our Sayid, always down to business._ Ben abandoned all but the inevitable, his inner feelings a pair of intensely dismayed and strangely relieved.

Sayid could see Ben's jaw muscles flexing so slightly, the tilt of his back changing as he gave up the appearance of social interaction. Ben sat back, and they were silent for a time, enjoying the creamy, golden light on the clouds and the whispy white layer of air fully saturated with water just above the dancing whitecaps, dipping and bobbing, always moving, always seeking the shore.

At last Ben's voice was casual with a hard won steadiness. “Do you know yet, Sayid.... what it is we share?”

Sayid made a small sign with his hand, a mere flutter to anyone else. Ben said nothing, but Sayid noticed Ben's eyes slightly wider, a man who, barely containing his fear, forced himself to not look away, to not reveal his reaction. Sayid also did not look away. Ben persisted, though Sayid could see that this cost him more every moment he delayed.

Finally Ben looked out to sea, visiting other places in his memories, using them to occupy his mind during a long moment of catching up with his discomfort.

“I see your fear, Ben.” Sayid said.

“Of course you do, Sayid.” Ben replied, meeting Sayid's gaze with the self-serving focus and breathtaking intelligence he brought to every moment. 

Sayid could feel Ben's fear growing, a visceral alarm behind his words. Sayid knew well the sounds and the cadence of Ben's speech, somehow always deliberate and casual over an inner slaughter.

“Do you know what I was before you met me, Ben?” Sayid was still watching him, finding his way, letting it begin.

“You were a soldier,” Ben tried to steer the inquiry away from himself, away from the history they shared.

“Yes, a soldier,” Sayid stated, making the words, watching Ben.

“And a torturer.” Ben said, looking sharply at Sayid, feigning impatience as Sayid tracked his eyes, still wide with cold fear as Ben's mind slipped, and gave him up in a stunning betrayal.

 _This is what it means to be undone._ Sayid watched him, so close, Ben's mind so close, closer than close, vicious, made primal by his sudden lack of traction, the loss of filler in the now vacant place that he always kept filled with a plan, and a backup plan... always a plan. But Ben was silent. He had lost control.

“It was what I knew,” Sayid said, keeping Ben's attention as he simply watched Ben struggle, as Sayid sat confidently filling in the other half of everything he had ever known about Ben.

 _Not yet..._ Sayid was careful to not dip into Ben's mind, though he wished to seek there the little catches that would undo Ben's expert control, lift the covers tucked over the seething, disloyal parts of himself he had betrayed and burned without allegiance or even recognition.

 _He drives himself._ Sayid was watching. Deflection, control. A distraction when he could find neither. And there was nothing that was not a distraction from Ben's inner world of pain.

Ben was at war. He pulled every person he encountered into his silent war, some willingly, some without their knowledge. He oozed his own particular blend of poison everywhere he went.

Ben was lies, heart break, murder. He was a menace to all he had contact with. He had forced at great cost the war of control within himself, and replaced real confidence with the ready intelligence of a ruthless, expert control of others. He played others the way he had played his own terror, and achieving his goals, left them with the ache and horror of what they had done for him, weakening them, rendering them incapable of retribution--as he had done with these parts of himself.

 _He drives himself, with no pity or mercy._ Sayid remembered those of the house of Israel, those who were enslaved, who were driven before their enemies with no rest or mercy.

All because they had worshiped God as _this_ , instead of _that_.

 _It was not the God that was found wanting,_ Sayid thought, knowing that there was nothing that was not God. _It was the worship. It was what they worshiped inside, in their hearts._

And Ben worshiped pain. Pain that answered pain. He was already lost, but the Island had still accepted him.

 _And now.... I must find him._ How different this was from the way he had given himself to Jacob, a surrender of love. Ben's surrender would be the end of his worship of pain. 

Sayid remembered then what James had done for him, his realization of how much it had cost him, the state of him when he returned to Jacob. Sayid had witnessed the days of healing before James shrugged the wounds off at last, wearing a new skin, loving Jacob, loving Sayid.

“The Island has accepted you, Ben.” Ben' mind was already teetering, and he was now caught off guard, utterly confused, a certain tightness in his posture released so suddenly, his eyes stinging as he gasped, bringing his hands to his breast where his heart was pressing open as the font of his tears. Crying silently, Ben sat looking down in shame as his tears dropped one by one into the sand.

Sayid's watched Ben cry with his own depth of emotion, a visceral sense of purpose just beginning, steady and pure and deep from his heart. A quest that was not really about Ben at all, but almost entirely about how Ben would become his, his to give to the Island, Sayid's first task in service to his source.

“You have chosen me, Benjamin Linus," Sayid said softly. "You are mine.”

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN: Be mine** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381436/)

“Let us walk,” Sayid suggested. “Will you walk with me, Ben?”

Ben seemed surprised, as though he remembered again that Sayid was there for him, and would take Ben where he went.

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	67. Be mine

Ben's tears had stopped, but he was still bent forward, the small motions of pain in his sobs replaced by the ragged motions of breaths yielded and spent.

“It would not have me,” Ben said finally, a statement and a question, his voice so very sad.

“Why?” Sayid asked.

“ _Surrender..._ ” Ben spoke this one word as though he was both answering and coaching himself. “What keeps happening to me... what has always happened to me.”

“You have not changed your outward life,” Sayid said, thinking aloud. “But what of your heart?”

Ben sat up at last, wiping his tears and snot with his shirt, laughing at this small social transgression compared to the largest of transgressions. Larger than greed, or even pride; his inability to choose well, to accept grace, infinite grace.

Ben relaxed into his seat and looked at Sayid, openly studying him, looking again for what was essential about him, what had remained from his recent transformation by grace. Ben felt himself slipping back into falseness in his appearance and motivations, and a few more tears began in his eyes, tears of despair that he wiped away quickly, looking away.

Sayid reached to Ben, touching his cheek, still wet with tears. When Ben looked again, Sayid's eyes and entire posture clearly offered the wealth of love he sought to give to Ben, to teach Ben to accept.

Ben knew he could have all of this and more. He knew Sayid's love was his. He wanted to touch Sayid's hand, to smile and accept Sayid's immense love. But he felt his own face and eyes only false, and felt that he had already begun to give up, to back away from this narrow ledge between his despair and the hope he could not sustain on his own.

“Let us walk,” Sayid suggested. “Will you walk with me, Ben?”

Ben seemed surprised, as though he remembered again that Sayid was there for him, and would take Ben where he went.

Sayid stood, stretching. He turned to offer Ben his hand, who wiped his own moist hand on his pants. Sayid smiled, and Ben also smiled at last as Sayid helped him up. Sayid waited a little before letting go of Ben's hand, and this physical contact felt pleasurable to them both.

Sayid whispered something in Arabic, as though to the waves as they walked down to the water, and then along the wet sand at the dark reach of the waves along the shore.

Ben was soothed by his love of home as they walked slowly, finding an easy rhythm that lent itself to a carefree optimism, something Ben had somehow found in his life upon the Island.

At the end of the beach, Sayid led the way into the trees, finding the little bed he had shared there with Jacob. It was overgrown now, and Sayid cleared it away, reinforcing the crunchy soft layers below, arranging the softest and largest of the new leaves on top.

He watched Ben casually as he moved about. He could read Ben's despair still pulling him, his sharp intellect measuring his inability to respond to another, a lack he had concealed with a practiced skepticism and callous manipulation of others.

“Will you come down to me, Ben? Just to touch and be touched?”

Ben hesitated, then nodded slightly, unconvinced. Sayid had slipped down onto the bed, laying on his back, enjoying the morning sky above, letting Ben find his way.

Ben stood for some time. _He may not come to me without help_ , Sayid thought. Finally Ben joined him, laying next to him, also looking up at the sky. He closed his eyes as Sayid took his hand.

 _I will not challenge him at all,_ Sayid thought. _Not yet._

Sayid was pleasantly surprised when Ben kept hold of Sayid's hand, and began to speak, his voice wistful and smooth.

“There once was a grove... where a golden cave was hidden. Have you been there, Sayid?”

“Yes.”

“I was drawn to the golden cave many times over the years. I felt an invitation to appear... or a command.”

Sayid knew little of Ben's history and found it pleasing to hear of the way the Island had reached out to him.

“But one day there were no more invitations. And when I went to the grove, the cave was not there. Only the stream coming out from the rock.”

Ben paused before continuing. His voice changed, sounding so close, an intimate sound to his voice that Sayid had never heard before.

“I waited there. I had enough food for days. But the Island had closed to me. I was shut out.”

Sayid could hear Ben's broken heart, and waited for him to continue, but Ben was silent.

“ _When_ were you shut out, Ben?” Sayid finally asked.

There was another long silence. Sayid remained open to inspiration, to finding what was next. He reflected for a moment that this ease in waiting was now a virtue, when it once had been his skill in destroying others.

The tide was slipping out and Sayid's consciousness slipped and surged like the nearby waves slipping back out with a quiet jostling of foam and air finding it's way up from the sand. The golden light above danced green and gold with the leaves in the mild breeze from off the beach. The men were hypnotized by this display, and had fallen into a drifting state of contentment. And still Sayid waited.

“I will tell you, Sayid... but I can't begin. The _beginning_ of telling is so hard.”

“I understand,” Sayid said gently, squeezing Ben's hand. “We must be lovers, Ben. Only as my lover can you let these things go. I will flow into those places as _love_ , as the love of the Island.”

Ben gathered his courage and turned to Sayid, reaching to rest his hand upon Sayid's cheek, pushing back his curls lightly. He tried again and again to make eye contact with Sayid for more than a few seconds. Finally he held Sayid's gaze.

“Sayid...” he said as they made the language of love with their eyes. “Sayid...”

Sayid lifted his head, beckoning to Ben with his lips slightly open, his eyes slightly closed, their eyes for each other as their lips came together, just touching, their eyes closed then as they spoke love with the light dance of their lips and the slight searching movements of their hands, their motions of breath and the subtle movements of their bodies.

Sayid pulled Ben lightly, feeling Ben's barely taught resistance, his awkwardness with touching and with intimate feelings of being so near to another.

“You are mine... be with me,” Sayid whispered, kissing Ben so very lightly, again and again. “We will be lovers.”

At last Ben had relaxed and Sayid arranged Ben beside him on the leafy bed with Ben's head upon his shoulder.

Two men lay in the jungle, listening to the low dance of the waves and the buzzing of insects, the call of the birds. Sayid felt for the first time what it was to be newly whole and to first touch and feel the presence of another one who was still fragmented and ruled by pain.

“You are mine, Ben.” he whispered. “Be mine.”

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT: What became of you**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381472/)

Ben's skin was newborn, the air cradling him in a quickening birth of touch. He sighed as he stretched on the bed, arching his back as he flowed with the exquisite bliss, filling him, moving him, entering him wherever Sayid touched him, firmly or softly, push or pull.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	68. What became of you

Sayid pulled Ben's clothes from him, a thing among things—sun, sand and wave—that immediately ceased to exist, so close Ben was to the moment, to what was here: a familiar dark corner of everything that held a little bed and a little man, two little men. Nothing more.

Ben's skin was newborn, the air cradling him in a quickening birth of touch. He sighed as he stretched on the bed, arching his back as he flowed with the exquisite bliss, filling him, moving him, entering him wherever Sayid touched him, firmly or softly, push or pull.

 _“Ben...”_ Sayid whispered to him, his voice a curling current of desire, touching the best of the inside places, gathering and joining them in the current of excitement.

 _“Haaa...”_ Ben breathed out, his long breath sounds making room for more pleasure.

“This is love...” Sayid said as he caressed Ben inside with a point of tingling warmth that floated, waiting. When Ben found that he could move the pleasure, he did not hesitate to move it to the place that made the most pleasure, the place just above his genitals, near his spine.

Sayid smiled as Ben was sighing, each sigh a complaint with a bigger sigh the answer, a steady build of exquisite tension in his body, and a promise of ultimate release the guarded possession of his mind. Sayid caressed Ben's spiky hair as Ben arched against him, not thinking of Ben as a boy sexually, but loving the boy in him, knowing that Ben was new to this level of love and of physical loving, and that it healed him, a gift from the Island.

Sayid continue to caress Ben _inside_ as he rubbed his belly, just touching his erect penis, knowing how unbelievably pleasurable this was, smiling again at Ben's reaction.

Ben was allowing, surrendering, reaching to the pleasure, reaching to his new place in the world and service to the Island. The fire of desire and pleasure was softening him, dissolving his braced and brittle skills of deception and fear, replacing this with the free flowing energy of the life force at play. 

When Ben orgasmed, Sayid felt Ben reduced to _one_ , committed to one, made whole as the one who might now be honest with himself and others.

When Ben lay sated, his mind still, his body overcome and undefended as Sayid caressed him tenderly, playing again in his hair, hugging Ben against him with loving delight. "You have opened your heart to me, Ben," Sayid praised him, hugging him warmly. "This time will be so different..." he promised, and Ben believed him at last, knew at last that he would be loved, that he would love.

Then Sayid shifted away from Ben, aware of _another_ , making room for the one who carried the intention of the Island, the one who appeared now between them, his back to Sayid as he took possession of the one who had once been rejected.

“James...” Ben said. James did not allow Ben to turn to him, soothing him back into place. 

“James. I will say 'yes' this time.”

"Soon, my love," James' voice was soothing. “You are not free, yet. You cannot give yourself.”

Ben relaxed, his mind again between fear and hope, standing again on the ledge between two options his life had rekindled in him.

Sayid felt James begin, and moved to the other side of Ben, holding him with closed eyes, joining in the damp darkness of it, the strong smell of mold, golden green light leaking in around the boarded up windows and through the torn curtains, the air stale and absolutely still. Ben was this young child, a boy at play, his clothes ragged and too small, his hair long and shaggy. He lay upon the bare floorboards, playing with tiny rocks, baby teeth, and bent and rusty nails, sailing across the floor in circles, climbing them over each other like big machinery, moving earth and steel and each other.

This boy made the little sounds, the growl of diesel engines, the crashing of rock. He made the voices, the phrases of men at work, ones he had learned of _before_. “Okay Joe, let's go over there.” “Okay Joe, we're moving this dirt.” “Look out Joe...”

Everyone in Ben's little world was named Joe.

Ben played and played until he was weary of the same game, then he sat up and put his hands over his face, blocking out the tiny shafts of morning sunlight, summoning the other parts of his imagination for company. He peeked again at the golden light, measuring an entire day's advance and retreat until the darkness came, when he could sleep for a whole night of unconsciousness, away from this empty room with no one in it.

Sometimes he dreamed... a personal joy that whispered as the soft wind on his skin. The excitement of running through tall grass. Running. For a moment when he awoke, he remembered the smell of trickling water, the feel on his hands of slick mud pressed into battlements and a dungeon pit, the crack of rough stems bent into a barred hold for insect prisoners.

No people... _No world._ Being shut away was worse than being alone. Here there was nothing, and no one. Ben hadn't thought to count himself as a person. _People_ talked to each other. They went places and did things... he still had rough memories of this. He still believed that those people were out there, though they didn't know he existed, here.

Now the only person he saw was his mother, who unlocked the door to the room and wordlessly placed a tray of food on the floor, replacing the bucket with an empty one that touched the floor as the handle dropped with an anodized aluminum “clank-clank” before she turned and left, locking the door again, her steps retreating, the distant sound of her washing up before she went back to the TV.

Years later, when Ben would hear the sound of a metal bucket against the floor, the handle dropping onto the rim of the bucket, the certain sound carried him back to the years when he was lost in his mind with no stimulation, no learning, no shared etiquette or social provisions building into a future of interacting with others. Only his intelligence had kept him sharp as he created worlds and events populated with imaginary adults interacting, serious and determined, focused only on their goals, never on each other. 

There were no children in Ben's fantasies. This had not seemed strange to him at all until years later, when he watched children play together, and realized how foreign play _with another_ was to him, and how this had left something empty in him that life required each person to fill when young in order to be a social creature.

There came a day when the years of depression and sadness and bone-aching loneliness Ben carried he had turned over in his mind at last, and only once, when he was a young adult. At the very moment there was enough of him that _hadn't_ lived that life, he buried a hundred thousand empty moments with a single heaving motion that smashed it all together at the bottom of his mind. He walked away, and never looked back.

He did the same thing to himself that his mother had done to him. He abandoned himself. He did not allow or acknowledge the wounded parts of himself. He compensated for them with the energy and promise of youth, for as long as these provisions lasted.

James and Sayid held Ben as he relived what happened to him, what had happened to Ben. He held it away from himself, watching from nearby, watching the pain and the tears that had finally floated up from an this inner fraud about some other boy, _dubious, not real..._ but somehow lifting a single, aching feeling of injustice in him, a sharp pain that stabbed deep into his heart. He pictured his mother putting it there, a dagger lodged by his mother's hand in one blow, extinguishing his soul, his remaining worth.

Immediately it all flowed up and through him. He was overcome. The scene was set, his past was all before him in a single tally of the cost of it, so much of his humanity, his willingness to care about others, his ability to really care about himself... the one who was lost.

This much Ben knew: no one knew of him, and no one knew what had happened to him. And this was what was unbearable, the real crime at his mother's hand. She killed him, again and again, taking all of him, conveying the reality of his death to him every day with this certainty of non-existence, hating him, suffocating him even as she sat still before the TV, negating him in a way that brought her a cold pleasure in every moment of every day.

And all that she must do for this pleasure was unlock his door once a day, to bring the tray of food for him and carry away the empty one. To leave a bucket for him, and carry one away. To lock up his room again as a practiced ritual, keeping him from the surrounding fields of the verdant green of the South, walled away from him by the boards tacked on to keep him in, and to deny him even a momentary glimpse of a world as wild and varied as his was sterile and singularly hard, empty and devoid of light.

He suffered this denial. But Ben still _knew_. He still experienced _out there_. He dreamed of escape, which for him meant seeing what he could hear. A reverie of night insects. A bolero of birds soaring at the approach of sunrise.

There was the faint sound of the TV when she awoke, the sounds in the kitchen as she made their breakfast, the sounds again later as she cleaned up. He learned the songs of different birds, and eventually which ones migrated, listening for them to know the time of year. He knew the sound and smell of a coming storm, and the heart-stirring dance of the shifting winds pushing the grasses just out _there_ , rubbing them together in a mysterious whisper-like promise that there was a reason for it all, one that _she_ did not control, that _she_ could not vanquish.

Sometimes he heard the slap of the screen door, and the old car complaining as she forced it to run, to crunch over the gravel drive and roll with a huffing sound off down the lane that led to the road he barely remembered.

When she was away, he daydreamed the police coming to the house, finding him, making him point at her, her small body hunched in the police car, his terror as they took her away, overwhelmed by the horror of knowing he had betrayed her.

When she was away, he sometimes daydreamed that the house was on fire, and the firefighters came straight to his house, straight to him, their sirens announcing that someone required urgent rescue, rolling in a line up the long lane, and running without hesitation into the house. He could hear them breaking the doors into shards of spiked wood beneath their feet as they looked in every room. They broke into Ben's room, carrying him out into the piercing light of day where his mother stood, betrayed by life, betrayed by anyone who would release him and let him win, to let him live and thrive the way she never had, the way she never knew when in her childhood her father had done the same to her.

Ben curled tight against Sayid as he struggled in terror with these old feelings, ones that had always waited, and had come for him, up from the depths like the creature she had tried to destroy, the monster she had left and the one he had abandoned, coming to take its vengeance, to extinguish him finally _for deserving this_ , leaving him cold and dead and finally put away, but this time in the ground, her work finished at last.

Ben was quiet then. Every place of it all had been mapped and a light shown on it, how it all went together, exactly what it did to him, the price that had been payed. They held Ben as he lay still for a long time, feeling it all assigned a new meaning, and settling into a new place where it was the right size, the size that fit. Never again the cold fear pushing him under, making whole parts of him small and dark. Never again the terror cutting him open, cowering under his single blanket with his hands over his ears, certain death rolling towards him as the huge thunderstorms of summer, creatures as tall and as wide as the sky, one of many monsters that came at night, that came for him, that knew he existed and where. 

James and Sayid caressed him, and their hands joined to caressed each other's as they waited with Ben, protecting him and holding with him what he would not acknowledge to himself until now.

The sun was descending and lit the little windows with the golden light of late afternoon, warming the cave, dispersing some of the dampness, the sea breeze a delicious scent of all that lived in and came from the sea.

Ben turned over at last, accepting on his forehead the gentle kisses of Sayid and James, laying back with their arms around his head, their hands intertwined with his on his bare chest and stomach. Every part of his body was glowing softly, undone by an immense relaxation, a potential beginning in the very cells of his body, the call to begin anew in ways never conceived of. 

They listened to the world around them, and watched over the one whose world was beginning, until he tried to speak.

 _“I know...”_ Ben said, his voice cracking from a sincere surge of emotions.

He was quiet again, and there were more tears. A certain silence had returned when he spoke again.

“ _I know..._ mother _._ I know what became of you.”

[ **CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE: The desires that wait** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381484/)

Every sound, every movement against Ben was intoxicating. He watched them, worshiping their beauty, awed by their sure knowledge of each other. He reached to them carefully, touching, feeling the taut movements of their bodies, thrilling at the jerking, feverish motions breaking through, then brought back into their shared rhythm, the long, controlled stretch of building, building.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	69. The desires that wait

Ben was singing inside. It was so easy to float on the silken currents of release and change that he felt slipping through him as he listened to the ocean's rush and evening's hush floating up to him _now,_ in the arms of love, the love of each other.

He lay beside them as they began, finding each other, saying _yes_ with their movements.

Sayid lay between them now, and Ben watched his back muscles flowing, moving his arms and shoulder blades, his creamy skin flexing with his movements of excitement and desire.

Ben felt that he knew what life was, and what it meant, his spirit soaring. _Everything_ was his and more. The desires of his heart had returned, lost until now in the slow murder of a little boy. Soon he would become something great, fulfill a great destiny, love a great love. His dry and empty soul was soaking in the taste of love, love for himself and for his brothers.

They had rolled against him then, a fervent wrestling, James and Sayid touching and pleasuring each other, pushing against each other with their hands and their hardness, holding back a little, finding the pace that would let them linger in the pleasure, filling each other with a desire to last for a time, to be only _this_....

Every sound, every movement against Ben was intoxicating. He watched them, worshiping their beauty, awed by their sure knowledge of each other. He reached to them carefully, touching, feeling the taut movements of their bodies, thrilling at the jerking, feverish motions breaking through, then brought back into their shared rhythm, the long, controlled stretch of building, building.

Ben watched them and touched them as he searched in himself for the Ben that went with _this_ , the making of love.

 _This_.... No, Ben had never made love. He had never understood sex. And now he knew that sex as love was the purpose of him, the delight of his thoughts, the most eloquent of images moving, images holding still, catching him, pulling him along. And his body was made for sex, his pleasures uniquely arrayed for another's discovery and delight, the gifts he most treasured, made ready for another to give back to him.

 _How can it be?_ he thought, trying to picture himself with a lover in this way, open and accepting of another's desire to pleasure him, ready to touch and to taste and nuzzle as fragrance what was offered to him, to hear his lover's breath and moans as he kissed and touched with love.

Ben looked at his own body, something he avoided. It was pasty white and lumpy, nothing like Sayid's glowing and muscled back flexing next to him, moving under Ben's hand as he touched him. He remembered when he last looked in a mirror, with strange eyes that bulged, a crooked nose and tiny mouth, his hair receding and an unruly crown of crunchy crabgrass for hair. He had come to value these things about himself, for they helped him to appear as a great many things he was not, an aspect of his mastery of manipulation which he valued greatly.

Ben smiled, ever accepting of his appearance. A very good disguise for an intelligence operative, which is how he thought of his work, his way of life. Still...

 _What if_ ... he was almost breathless at the thought. _What if I could share my intelligence and veiled intensity as a lover...?_

Ben pictured how he must look when he was in the middle of his latest plan, teasing the pieces into place, knowing that everything he desired could be his as he patiently shaped the events at hand.

Then he saw himself gazing at a lover, making his plans, waiting for his lover to join him in the silent, unseen passion that began with a look.

This was his beauty, and intelligence his form. He would find in another that which he might use to make them cry out, to make them beg as he withdrew. He would seek with his expert skills as an observer to find what was most hidden and most strongly denied, then taunting and releasing and demanding these very things, releasing and shaping and rewarding the deeper desires, the ones that wait and wait, for discovery.

Yes. He had not understood until now. Loving was an adventure that made the giver and the recipient more like all who loved; following the sure path of loving desire, shaped and shaping as they made of their common desires something rare and individual, to be gathered with the sure tenderness of brusque requirement. Loving was the great and common adventure of all who would love. To climb the highest mountain was to be one of the rare few. To truly share love was to join where all were joined, and say _yes_ to whatever waited there.

Sayid was calling out then, his voice aching with pleasure, his back tight as his movements became more purposeful and more derelict at the same time. Ben placed his hand upon Sayid's shoulder and was thrilled to see an instant communication of added pleasure, Sayid turning his head slightly, his body language changing, subtly inviting.

Ben guaged his own excitement as he pressed up against Sayid, feeling Sayid's pulsing back and body against the whole of him, Ben's head bouncing slightly against Sayid's upper back, Sayid's buttocks jerking against him. Ben grasped Sayid's shoulder and held himself against his body, loving James, picturing himself loving James in this way.

Sayid reached behind and grasped Ben, who felt himself exquisitely hard. He was already on the edge from so much that was exciting and new, and he could not hold back from Sayid's expert movements. Sayid stopped for a moment, and Ben realized Sayid was tipping at the edge, that he was waiting to bring Ben with him. Then they were falling, Sayid had tipped without movement over the peak of pleasure, slowly, slowly, then cascading, falling through the sudden frenzy his body demanded of him.

And Ben was falling, a long slow release with few muscle movements except for the delicious spasm and discharge of his semen and the uniform tightness of his body rippling as he came.

He listened to Sayid through it, listening to his breathy little cries followed by breathy moans, cut short again and again by movement as his body was moved from within, flinging any remaining social restraint aside. He was so beautiful, his movements and his voice so beautiful that Ben was deeply moved, and remained against Sayid as he felt himself finished, caressing Sayid and kissing his back and shoulder, Sayid still moving subtly from James' quiet movements against him.

Sayid rolled onto his back, and James buried his head in Sayid's shoulder as he came, silent as Sayid caressed his head and hair. James lifted his head, placing it on Sayid's chest. He looked at Ben and smiled, his gaze and expression fluid, unpressured, ecstatic. Ben could tell that James was pleased with him, and felt a rediscovered desire to please as well as to be pleased.

They lay together, no words, few thoughts, the afterglow of love.

_What is next?_ Ben's mind kept at him, questioning. _Will I pass the test, become immortal, possess at last the secret at the heart of all this...? This is crazy..._ He still did not believe these things were real, that they were possible. Who could anticipate these kinds of questions, fathom their answers? Would he know the reason it had all happened, why the Island sought him, changed him?

 _No one could imagine this place, this drama_ , he thought, holding his dark laughter close, sharing it with himself, his only confidant.

Ben was watching himself. He watched this habit of secrecy in himself, unchallenged, a seeming necessity that lowered his expectations, discarded the need to thrive, kept him ever at the ready to cheat others, to cheat himself in order to cheat life.

_I am still secretive, I still seek the upper hand._

Ben felt James still watching him. Ben had betrayed no emotion, and for the first time in his life he wished this were not so.

“Are you finished, Ben?” James asked.

Ben thought for a moment, remembering how the dappled sunlight had played upon Sayid's face as he closed his eyes, falling into James' arms, how they carried him through the dark temple and back to the bed, lovingly arranging him under the covers, trusting him to the Island as they watched over him, then went outside to wait.

Ben smiled. Sayid had been so lucky to be unconscious, to remember in his dreams, to wake up already changed. _My bonfires have all been “eyes open.”_ Ben was amused to picture himself as a bonfire, his crispy hair dancing as flames. But today he did not recoil from the vast pool of sadness under his familiar smirk of irony. _No. My “fires” are cold. My karmas do not burn. They must melt. I must melt._

Ben somehow remembered an image on a TV screen that he had seen when he was a tiny boy. A monster named Frankenstein. The monster was hideous, sitting alone on the deck of a sailing ship surrounded by huge masses of ice, his face and body decaying while he was still alive, alone, forsaken by God as he waited for death. The image had filled him with an overwhelming, sickening feeling of inner decay and alienation from himself that drove him with terror day after day for weeks. He felt so ill that he could not eat, and mother had thrown his food away.

 _Before she threw me away..._ Ben realized he was crying. _Was that why?_ Ben had asked this question so very many times...

 _I'm not going to make it_ , _just like last time_ . He began to feel numb. _There will be no next time for me_ . He felt hopeless, stuck on a certain track, unable to change the course of his life and avoid the imminent train wreck of failing himself, failing his soul. _My life has all taken place at the junction of good and evil_ , he thought. _These my brothers are good, and sometimes evil, but I am always evil, I am evil. There is no hope for me._

So familiar this self-hatred, more of the aching sadness, the cold emotions easily masked by the cold intellect of unforced irony.

“No, James,” Ben confessed, somehow dead again inside. “I am not done.”

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY: Changed forever** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381493/)

“The Island must need you, Ben.”

“I have no idea what for,” Ben was sincere.

“Does it matter?” Sayid countered. “Chosen or not chosen is all that matters.”

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	70. Changed forever

The three men sat up, leaning back and stretching before crossing their legs, rubbing each other's knees affectionately, looking around the room, changing focus. Ben had already moved on from their loving, from the soaring, hopeful flights of fancy. He had returned to his usual duplicitous self, displaying that which he desired to about himself, making up the rest as he went along.

They sat for awhile, and Ben sensed them waiting. James seemed to come to a decision. He reached to Ben and rubbed his arm, then lightly grasped his hand. Ben felt a sort of energy enter him. James leaned a little towards Ben as he spoke: “This is for you, Ben. To help you.”

Sayid reached to Ben, grasping his wrist, then twisting firmly. Ben found himself suddenly face down on the bed, unable to move without unbearable pain in his wrist.

“I did not see this coming, James,” Ben's voice was muffled, sarcastic, a combination of complaint and forced compliment. 

“I will be somewhat easier on you than you are on yourself, Ben,” Sayid said.

“It's because I can't sleep, isn't it?” Ben asked.

“What do you mean?” asked Sayid.

“You slept _during_... I cannot.”

“I have never slept, you have slept too much,” Sayid countered. There was an awkward moment where neither man spoke of what James had done to Sayid while awake.

Ben snorted, pressing his face into the covers in frustration, then settling into the awkward position, turning his face back to Sayid.

“Okay... now what? ...where is James?”

“He is here, he will return.”

“Are you in charge these days, Sayid?”

“Ben... listen to yourself. I hear your pain, your fear.”

Suddenly they both stopped, holding still as they were drawn _inside_.

After several moments, Ben whispered: “Can you feel that?”

“Yes,” Sayid said, his voice dark. Sayid recognized this place, this energy in himself. “You have this inside of you, Ben,” he observed. "Why?”

“Well I wasn't fucked and beaten by my uncle.” Ben had to get Sayid's attention off of his pain.

Sayid twisted Ben's wrist hard, then pushed his face into the covers, pushing harder. He stopped, and when Ben smiled, there was blood on his teeth.

“Or _bit_ ,” Ben added, when he could speak again.

Sayid sat glaring at Ben, hurting, getting his anger under control as he remembered _then_... his uncle enjoying the excruciating pain in him, unable to hold still, unable to stand the pain of moving... always where he could hide the marks from his mother, knowing that he would.

“Did James tell you of this?” Sayid asked, his voice controlled, noticing that he still could not bring himself to say the word “bite.”

“There was a time, when I was sent to recruit _you_ , Sayid. I could see into you, as you can now see into me.”

Sayid was intrigued, but did not take the bait. “I will not use what I know about you in this way, Ben. But I am going to find what is hidden in you.”

“Sayid! Dear Sayid...” Ben sounded light hearted, careful not to move his wrist, laughing with a desperate pleasure. “The Island needs _you_ , Sayid... apparently it needs someone to get the goods out of me.”

“The Island must need you, Ben.”

“I have no idea what for,” Ben was sincere.

“Does it matter?” Sayid countered. “Chosen or not chosen is all that matters.”

“I think the Island knows damn well that I need.... _something,_ or I'm worse than useless.”

Sayid leaned forward, brushing Ben's face softly.

“Ben. Tell me. Tell me how you came to be on this Island.”

“There's more than one answer, Sayid, and I've never favored one over the other.”

“Pick one,” Sayid prompted, twisting every so slightly on Ben's wrist.

“Stop that, and I will,” Ben said.

“No.” Sayid was relaxed, unhurried, no longer listening for James' return, knowing that he was alone. James would not return.

“Fuck,” Ben said.

“I am here to save you from yourself, Benjamin Linus,” Sayid said lightheartedly, regaining his composure. “For some reason, it seems that I am the only one who can.”

"I want James, where is James?" Ben protested.

"Your fear of me is why it must be me, Ben. This is the reason I am on this Island."

Ben pushed his face into the covers again, then turned away from Sayid, avoiding his gaze. _I am terrified of his gaze_ , he thought. He focused on the wall of the cave near the bed, finding fanciful patterns there. The wall of the cave was dry, but water-stained in elaborate patterns, like an earth tone watercolor, now with a subtle golden wash from the rays of light coming in from the windows above.

 _It is easier to begin this way,_ he thought, _as though I am talking to myself. Perhaps_... He did not know if he could begin until the very moment that he did.

Ben closed his eyes and _remembered_... sitting in the living room, playing with the little objects he called toys, his mother smoking and watching the TV. _There is something wrong_ , he remembered thinking. There was always something wrong, he could see it in her face, her body slumped and pushed into the sagging seat, braced there like a bug in a hole, refusing to come out.

 _Where did I get the toys?_ It had never occurred to Ben that the gathered "toys" or anything in the house belonged to him, except for his clothes, his old toothbrush, his highchair still standing in the kitchen, no longer used.

 _It is my fault._ It was always his fault; if only he could change it, if he knew what he had done. No, it was because of who he was, what he was. He was broken, nothing about him was acceptable. Here was proof: she suffered.

There was a time... _She had smiled at me_.

He stopped. Ben realized that he was not speaking. He was still looking at the rough wall of the cave, thinking to himself about that time...

“Continue, Ben.” Sayid almost whispered. He had removed his hand from Ben's wrist, and Ben rolled onto his side, his back to Sayid, rubbing his wrist.

The wall had changed. It was a dark mass in the fading light, the patterns no longer visible.

Ben closed his eyes, the memory coming to him like the sound of a distant car coming, one that can only come to you...

He heard the car in the driveway, loud in the evening stillness. Not her car; she sat here at the TV, suddenly attentive, standing to peek out of the curtains. The car crunched into the gravel drive, then sputtered and was silent. A car door squeaked, then slammed shut.

 _Crunch crunch_ came footsteps up to the walk.

She turned and ran at Ben, grasping his arm, dragging him into the back room, unused except for a few boxes piled in the corner.

“Don't you make any noise, or I will get the switch,” she said in a low, desperate tone that terrified Ben. “Don't you do it!”

She closed the door, and locked it. The unfamiliar sound of the metal key turning made him desperate. He could not get out, he could not get to her. Something very bad was happening. His sense of time changed, every second like a minute of horror.

And Ben was sitting in the dark, the windows covered with heavy curtains. He could smell the curtains decaying, hanging between him and the world outside, a huge world that could hurt his mother. The curtains seemed to taunt him, a menacing presence. Ben could hear his heart beating wildly as he scooted his back to the wall, putting his face and arms against his knees, listening.

A man's voice, the screen door opening, then slamming shut. There was something wrong with this voice, a kind of raspy, sputtering sound, with uneven footsteps heavy on the wooden floor.

She was saying _no, no no no_ , trying not to sound afraid, he thought. He heard her hit the floor, the kicking and slapping sounds. He pictured her trying to push him away, but... men were stronger than women.

He wanted to yell. Mother! Mother!! But he did not. She had said not to.

The man was wrestling with her, and she was crying. He could hear her quiet sobs, and it was a horror to Ben, that she should feel this, that this happened in the world, ever. _He_ was hurting her, but Ben could not understand why.

He could hear his mother's low sobs, pushing up from her like gasps, beyond her control. He heard someone drop onto the couch, the sound of a cigarette being lit, his mother quiet now, still laying on the floor, moaning with pain.

Ben heard himself and realized that he was whispering, the sound very close in the tiny space between his knees: “...go away... go away... go away.”

The next day, she unlocked the door in the morning, pushing the door aside so that the bright morning light hurt his eyes. She tossed a blanket and a pillow on the floor, then placed a tin bucket in the corner. She returned with food on a tray, and a glass jug full of water.

She did not look at him. As his eyes adjusted he could see her face was empty and gray, her body posture one of pain and defeat. She _could not_ look at him, could not let him see her pain. She still had all of the pain, and it was terrible. She felt shame, she was defeated by shame, a shame that made him terrible to her. She could not forget if he looked at her. _He knew_.

She closed the door and locked it, her steps receding, the soft “poff poff” of her slippers on the living room carpet, then the TV with the sound a little louder than usual.

Ben sat alone in the darkness, not knowing when he would leave the room, or if he wanted to. He tried to understand, but he could not. All he knew was a cold terror. Each breath stung with a penetrating fear.

She was punishing him. Yes. He had not saved her. He was all she had, and he had sat alone in the dark while she was destroyed by an act of terrible consequence. Their world was broken, and he could never put it back. It was his fault.

Ben would learn who this man was, the man who had come to hurt her, taking the biggest part of her, smoking a cigarette before driving away, leaving Ben's life changed forever.

It was his father.

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE: Goodbye** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381499/)

Thump. A quiet thump. He knew what it was. The butt of the gun, next to her chair.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	71. Goodbye

Ben sat up from his blanket, almost coming to his feet. He knew what the sound was: a gunshot. He listened, his body tight, his breathing controlled and silent. He could still hear the stunning _pop_ sound in his ears. There were several more shots, an evenly spaced, practiced rhythm, then all was silent.

He heard her coming in, the screen door slapping behind her. He could hear her loud breathing, and he was choking on fear, imagining her out of control, ready to kill, her eyes down as she struggled with cold inhibitions and the wild territory beyond, a sudden freedom that was sure to cost everything.

“Mother...?” Ben risked speaking. His voice sounded strange to him, his throat tingling from strange exercise.

He heard her throwing off her shoes, her heavy step as she went to her chair.

Thump. A quiet thump. He knew what it was. The butt of the gun, next to her chair.

 _What if the neighbors heard?_ They were far away.

 _She is going to kill him_.

It had happened again, days ago. This time she had cursed him and he had slapped and beat her back into silence. She had not come to Ben the next day, but brought his food the following day, both of her eyes black and her lip split. He could tell that movement was painful.

“Mother,” he asked as she bent down to place the tray of food on the floor.

She looked at him. Her eyes were empty, her face was pulled tight and motionless with swelling.

She stood looking at him, then turned to leave. “Let me kill him,” Ben pleaded, scooting closer to her on the floor, then slowly coming to his feet. “I will kill him.”

She stopped, but did not turn back to him.

“He is your blood,” she said. “He was never mine.”

She pulled the door shut, and turned the lock.

_He is my father._

He rushed to the door and pounded on it. She did not come. She denied him.

At a certain age Ben had tried the door when she was away. The old door was like a sheet of brick, and the windows were painted shut. He had broken one of them out, but could not get through the thick, weathered old barn wood with evenly spaced nail holes, some with the old rusty nails still hanging from them.

_Let me do it, mother. I will do it..._

He had sat for so many days, the seat worn out of his jeans, but now Ben sat, he sat listening in every moment until the moment when he heard a car coming down the lane.

Why didn't she just run away?! There was nowhere to hide. But she could lay down in the tall grass...

Ben curled up on his little makeshift bed, useless, doomed. For the first time he could see clearly that life sometimes demanded more than he could give, and that he would be broken by this. He was about to be broken, his world taken from him.

 _He_ was in the living room and Ben heard the shot, then another. He heard a strange gurgled protest and there was another shot, stopping the sounds. All was silent.

“Mother?” he called out.

There were steps. Someone tried the door. The sound of someone lifting the key from the nail, then turning in the lock. The door opened slowly.

The man stood looking at him, a revelation. He took Ben, carrying him from the house, covering his eyes with his hand as they walked through the living room. But Ben could still see her through his fingers, an image he would never find a place for in himself.

 _I am sorry, so sorry! I never got to say goodbye,_ he thought. _Goodbye, mother._

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO: Of course you will** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381523/)

Ben followed the man back to the car. Would he take him with? Ben was relieved when the man opened the car door for him, then went around to get in the driver's side. Ben stood for a moment, realizing that he had a choice, a new feeling. He got into the car and closed the door.

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


	72. Of course you will

Ben was feverish, and rolled and jerked on the bed, his head in Sayid's lap. Sayid poured water through a tightly woven little sack, letting it trickle off of his face and head, neck and arms and torso. He held the sack high over Ben so the water splashed upon him, a cool, liquid massage that covered him like a moving fountain.

The heavy air of afternoon had changed. It had become sweet, like the air next to a waterfall, an island surrounded by sweet water at low tide.

James sat opposite Sayid, whittling away at one of his carvings, the scrapes of wood landing on a large burlap sack spread out on the floor at his feet, his arms resting on his knees.

“He started again...” Sayid observed quietly.

James nodded, but his expression did not change.

Ben was bundled up in his father's car. They listened to the radio as he drove all night. In the morning Ben sat up, peering out at a world that was blurry and bright. His father had returned from a little store with some clothes, and some scissors.

He pulled off Ben's ragged clothes, then cut his hair. He helped him to dress in the new clothes, which felt strangely confining and scratchy to Ben.

“Let me see your teeth,” his father said. “Now tell me what that sign says. Yep, you need glasses. Your teeth look fine.”

Ben was enchanted and horribly confused by having someone talk to him. He wasn't sure if he should try to say anything else, or even if he should run away. He wasn't sure if the man was done with him, or would take him somewhere. It was all so new, very distressing and comforting at the same time.

The man pulled in where a sign had a picture of glasses on it. They went inside, where it was almost as bright as outside.

Ben followed the man back to the car. Would he take him with? Ben was relieved when the man opened the car door for him, then went around to get in the driver's side. Ben stood for a moment, realizing that he had a choice, a new feeling. He got into the car and closed the door.

Ben liked his new glasses. He could see things in the distance now. And he was free. How wild and alive the whole world looked as they spun by it in a car.

They stayed that night in a seaside motel that smelled of mold and urine, and stale cigarettes. His father got drunk. At a certain point he started talking to Ben, though his mouth didn't really work right and it was hard to understand.

Ben learned that his father's name was Roger Linus. His mother's name was Estelle “Emily” Baldwin. They had never married, and Roger had not known about Ben. Roger sputtered and berated himself for “taking” her. It was how Ben came along, so there was no use complaining.

Ben wasn't sure what he meant, but knew that he disagreed. Roger had hurt her, and he would _never_ forgive him.

The next day Roger packed up their things. He had purchased quite a few supplies, including more clothes for Ben, and Ben began to wonder where they could be going.

Roger pulled up to the dock after sunset, dumping out all of their stuff in a pile under some low hanging trees, then driving the car to the far end of the lot.

Ben stood looking at him, not sure if he was coming back.

Roger got out of the car, rolling the windows up, then tossing the keys into the front seat. He made a funny motion as he walked away, a sort of “good riddance” jerk of his arm. It was clear he never expected to see the car again.

There they were, sitting next to their things in the moist darkness under the tree branches, waiting. Ben missed her again, those few moments when she had appeared each day, the hours he had listened for to her movements in the house, the horrible state of her when they left.

 _No no no no no_.... he thought to himself.

Roger's head popped up. “Yep,” he said, coming to his feet, helping Ben up. He handed some of their things to Ben, then grasped the rest in one hand, taking Ben's other hand as he led him down to the water's edge. There was a set of wooden stairs, and a crooked old dock.

The dock had a sort of watery ship next to it. Ben was pretty sure this was not a usual thing. As they went down the stairs, he could see that it was an underwater ship that had surfaced, and the top of it was open slightly. A man peered out, and whistled low. Roger whistled back, a series of notes. The man threw the hatch open, took their things, then Roger helped Ben in and followed him, looking around as he closed the hatch, securing it.

“Well, say something, boy!” Roger said, then he winced, holding his head in pain. Ben would come to know very well the signs of a hangover.

Ben was lost. He had run off again, and Roger had given up after calling him twice. Ben had heard him muttering as he drank and enjoyed handling his war memorabilia and his collection of guns, the majority of what he had brought here.

But now Ben was lost. He was lost on purpose, really. He had got himself lost, and now he was someplace not familiar, entirely new. He sat on the side of the trail and played with the found toys he was used to when he was younger, making the sounds, the dialogue of workmen.

Suddenly he was silent. The birds squawked, then were quiet. A strange man was walking towards him slowly, with a casual look of enjoying his walk.

Ben was not afraid. He liked the man. He was very happy he was walking towards him. What was about to happen?

“Hello Ben,” the man said as he stopped near Ben, smiling, then looking about at the trees and the sky.

“This is a nice spot to meet,” the man took a seat near Ben, settling in and smiling at him.

“You have a very important task to accomplish, Ben.”

“What?” Ben said. He still preferred to not talk, but managed as necessary. And he was curious.

“You need to take care of your father, Roger.”

Ben was confused.

The man waited, still smiling. “Do you know why you came to this island, Ben?”

“No.”

“You came here to make a deal. With me. You are going to punish your father Ben, for what he did to your mother.”

“Okay,” Ben said. He thought about punishing his father every day, to avenge her horrible death. To avenge just leaving her behind that way, and never returning. He couldn't bear it.

“All that you have to do is to agree to put this on at the right time, then open a little cannister like this one." The man pulled his rucksack off and pulled a gas mask and a little metal cannister from it. He explained what they were to Ben, then let him hold and try on the gas mask, which he found strange and exciting.

“This is serious Ben. There can't be any chance that you die with your father. Do you understand that a poison is going to come out of this and kill your father? Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes,” Ben was sure. Yet there was something he kept trying to recall, something that he was unsure about, but it kept slipping his mind.

“You will come to live with us, Ben, the “hostiles.” We were here long before your camp of people. And you, Ben, are the only one of your people who was meant to come here to stay. They brought you here, and have cared for you. But now you can come live with us. I think you will like that idea if you think about it.”

All that Ben thought about was surviving a poison that killed his father, splitting himself off from that stain, that wound that was everywhere he went, everywhere his father went, no matter how badly Ben wanted to get away from him. _He has to die,_ Ben thought, as he always did. _I will not go through the rest of my life looking at her between his fingers and not having done something for her, to set it right._

“I will,” Ben said, and the man nodded.

“I will give you the poison and show you how to use it. You will go with your father when he takes the van over to the meadow to drink. You will put the mask on, then open the cannister. He will die within a few seconds. I will tell you all of this again.”

Ben did not hesitate. “I will,” he said, and James smiled.

"Of course you will."

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE: I chose to stay** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381550/)

The lovers held each other's gaze, the fullness of their maturing connection changing in them as they talked.

“How did it change me, Sayid? Tell me...” James asked, wanting to hear Sayid give their love a story.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	73. I chose to stay

James was crying. He sat with his head back against the wall of the cave, his eyes alternately closed and then looking at, but not seeing his feet, hardly noticing the occasional tear running down his face. His breathing was deep, his breath the measure of complaints pushed out by the pain, and the little shudders of slipping deeper wavering on the out breaths.

Sayid got up from holding Ben, arranging him upon the bed, and went to James, sitting beside him, turning James against his shoulder, holding and rocking him as he cried.

“Ben will carry this part. Let it go.” Sayid held James, containing him and his pain.

 _He will be free now_.... Sayid thought as he rocked him.

When James stopped crying, he relaxed into Sayid's embrace, his messy tears on Sayid's shoulder.

“My love, my love...” Sayid rocked him. “Let go of these things. Your part is done. Your part is done.”

 _Now he can speak of these things,_ Sayid thought _._ Sayid felt a softening of relief in his entire body. Even his toes felt more relaxed.

At last James sat back and looked at Sayid, weary from a certain anguish, with the certain look that went with the willingness and ability to move on at last.

James looked over at Ben, still asleep on the bed, his face peaceful. Inside, James' mind had become still, controlled.

 _Now we can speak of these things_ , he thought, smiling a little at Sayid, rubbing his knee. _I wish to explain all of it, or at least try._

“When I wanted to leave, but could not...” James began. “I would do anything to escape. But when I could leave, that is when I chose to stay. Forever. But I did not know when I murdered all of those people that I would someday need the Island's forgiveness.” James was still looking at Ben.

“Perhaps Ben murdered them.” Sayid suggested, knowing confession was what James needed, what his soul required.

“I told him to do it,” James said. “I told him how. I knew where the poison was, and I gave it to him. I told him how to use it. He killed his father, then returned to help me kill the rest.”

James was silent then.

“Why did you have him do that, James?”

“Because I was trapped here. Because I _could not kill him_ , Sayid. There was no freedom for me with Jacob, and no freedom without Ben. I needed Ben to need me, to trust me, to be in my debt.”

Sayid already knew what answers James would give as to _why_ . But he needed to truly understand _how_. _How_ would using poison gas to kill the whole camp of intruders, except for Ben, somehow destroy Jacob and free James?

“I needed Ben,” James continued. “I helped him to kill his father, and the price was for him to help me to kill everyone else. We enslaved each other, though I didn't care at the time. I would pay any price to leave the Island. Ben would pay any price to own it, and I was his way to Jacob. So I enslaved Ben by having him murder for me. We... the inhabitants... were all that was left to him then. He was mine.” 

James' voice was sad, but he also had a look of waiting, even as he talked. He watched Sayid for a certain clue, an interest in that which had not been discussed since Sayid had come to live with them, and became their third.

“I knew Ben was important to Jacob somehow. But for me, he was simply the means of Jacob's destruction. So I gave him to Jacob. I knew that Jacob would take him, even if he knew why I sent Ben to him.”

“How did you know that? That Ben could destroy Jacob?”

“Sayid... _Say_... I cannot kill Jacob. You are also unable to kill Jacob now that you are like him, like us. And he would not allow me to leave the Island. Wherever one of us is, so must the other be.”

“Yes, I have chosen to remain here also,” Sayid said.

“I brought Ben to Jacob, and he received him. They would not speak until I went away. But it was of no consequence to me. I had my plans.”

“When Ben returned to the inhabitants, the ones he had called “the hostiles,” he spoke for Jacob. And they received him that way. As he grew up, he brought messages from Jacob that turned out for the best. Everyone trusted him then. There was no doubt that he spoke for Jacob. And whoever or whatever Jacob was, they knew that he was entrusted with their care and protection... of the whole Island. As was I.”

Sayid got a strange feeling when James said: “As was I.”

“Tell me,” Sayid said. James hesitated. “My brother...” Sayid prompted.

“I can appear in another form.” James confessed. “It is my consequence for murdering for my selfish purpose. The Island has changed me in this way. Now I must be the one who murders, who serves the Island with...” James was silent, looking at Sayid's face, finding the fear there.

Sayid was perplexed. His eyes were wider. He was looking at James anew, wondering what he might see in him now.

“I can.... When the Island needs protection, I take the shape of black smoke that calls out, terrifying those who hear. It is horrifying, even to me. I can easily rid the Island with intruders in this form. I am so strong, so quick. I murder with impunity, with malice. This is the price of the Island for letting me live, and stay here to love my Jacob.”

“You fell in love with Jacob,” Sayid said.

“Yes I did. Jacob became much more than my brother to me. We shared the same mother, and we shared the same source and protection: the Island. But I fell in love with Jacob at last, and wherever he is, so am I.”

“Sayid,” James said then, his voice lower, softer. His head tilted a little, a question for a question, a confession for a confession.

Sayid was happy. _He can talk about it now._

“When will you ask me the question that waits, always in your heart?” James touched Sayid's chest with his fingertips, with an gentle, boyish affection, then took Sayid's hand.

Sayid said nothing. James did not look away, waiting. Minutes passed. Sayid's fear was irrational, and he fought the memory; it seemed far greater than the question itself. He could not see why, _why_ it was so hard to ask, and so much harder to see the answer acknowledged upon James' face.

“James,” Sayid began at last. He was looking down a little, rubbing his knee with his other hand, then so very gently pulled his other hand away from James. “My James, _why_ ... why did you use me? Why did you rape me, _break me ..._ as my uncle once did?”

Finally Sayid had the courage to look up, to see what he found in James' eyes. He saw an unbearable sadness, a softening of all of James' being, and understood _why_ James had to do this horrible thing. It was the most full saturation of change in him, a lifetime of darkness used to burn up the one who burned, the fuel of his own redemption. Once burned off, only the essential remained.

Sayid understood then that James could only do this with a man who was not yet like him. And so the Island brought someone who matched his need for redemption. Someone who could endure a great darkness, and release a great darkness. Someone who could be broken again, then remade _for them_ , to be theirs, to become like them.

 _This is why I am here,_ Sayid thought. _Jacob could not take this darkness from James. And James wished to stay, to somehow be with Jacob._

It was an easy understanding, the question of _why_ . But Sayid felt a restless denial. He still could not understand _how_ James had been able to be so brutal to him, to fully inhabit the role of breaking him from without and within.

“How...?” Sayid began. “How could you....”

“Jacob asked me,” James said simply. ”I crushed you with my hatred, oh my Sayid... I did it for him, from my love for him. And I am something else now. Such a long time of bitterness was lifted from me."

Sayid remembered a certain moment. "I gave up, and chose again. I chose to live and to go on without that tortured place inside of me."

"Darkness is darkness, my love. It will take any form it pleases. We met in that place, and I walked through it with you. When we were finished, it was done. It is because of you that I am free. It is because of me that you are free... and both of us belong to Jacob, now. We are his forever.”

"And we each began again, with nothing," Sayid again, relieved that he understood it all at last.

The lovers held each other's gaze, the fullness of their maturing connection changing in them as they talked.

“How did it change me, Sayid? Tell me...” James asked, wanting to hear Sayid give their love a story.

“You paid a debt. And it softened you. You were changed by the darkness passing through you as it was released. You were softened... my love. You are soft now, when once you were made of a bitter hardness.”

The two men looked over at Ben, still asleep. They were reluctant to move on from their conversation. They put their heads together as they watched Ben sleep, and James hummed a little song he had made up and favored. They sat together for some time, content as brothers.

When Jacob returned at last, the two men stood and embraced him, their mood light and joyful. “Help Ben,” is all that Jacob said, smiling and gently touching Sayid, then taking James' hand as he led him outside.

The place where Jacob touched Sayid had a liquid tingle, a quality of _becoming_. Sayid felt that he carried this quality to Ben as he turned and walked to him on the bed.

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR: Rules** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381601/)

Sayid reached so slowly towards Ben, his palm flat, fingers together, giving Ben a chance to stop him, to say no. Ben did not move. 

Sayid placed his hand on Ben's eyes.

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	74. Rules

Ben opened his eyes. The hidden cave by the statue, night, lamplight flickering on the ceiling.

He turned slowly on the bed. Immediately Sayid came to him, sitting beside him, helping him to sit up.

“I killed them,” Ben said without feeling.

There were low voices outside, but the voices became quiet. James and Jacob were there, waiting.

“You were a boy, Ben. James killed them.”

“I was plotting even then. Always making plans.”

“Did you have a plan, Ben?” _A confession..._

“I wanted them all dead. I wanted to belong somewhere else, away from my father and his kind. I waited to kill him, Sayid. Years and years. A boy who plotted the murder of his father. Because he _hurt_ _her_. He raped and murdered my mother, my only kin. I have no father.”

“I know this, Ben.” Sayid said.

“You have seen all of this, Sayid? Inside of me, the memories?”

“You know I have, Ben.” Sayid's voice was soothing.

“I don't feel anything about people, you know. I think about them. I can mentally despise the things that happen to them. But I feel nothing for them, Sayid. I did for _her_. But my feelings died with my mother.”

Sayid reached so slowly towards Ben, his palm flat, fingers together, giving Ben a chance to stop him, to say no. Ben did not move.

Sayid placed his hand on Ben's eyes.

Ben was a boy again, jumping about as he followed the trail down to the little ocean bay surrounded by large rocky ridges, ever reaching down like arms to enclose the gentled water before continuing down into the sea.

There was a little stream that beckoned and they stopped to drink. James was strange, whispering as he touched the water, touching his lips before bending to drink.

They turned, and Jacob was standing near them, smiling. Ben was startled, and surprised to see that he had met Jacob before. _It is him..._

“Hello James, my brother.” Jacob said. “Hello Ben.”

“You were there,” Ben said. “When my father came. I saw you.”

“Yes, Ben. You were eating an ice cream cone,” Jacob said.

** “You touched me. And I felt different,” Ben said. **

** “That was so you could come here. So you could play your part.” **

Ben was silent then, thoughtful.

“Come,” Jacob said, turning to the rocks, waving his hand. A hidden doorway in the rock opened up.

“I think you're a show off,” Ben said, and Jacob was laughing as they walked through and down the path.

They sat in the shade, enjoying the gentled breeze afforded by the protection of the rocks. The sounds became a world, surrounding them with the musical notes of paradise floating on the wind like leaves, all folded together somehow, a packet of secrets from a hidden source.

Ben was suddenly very still when he saw the facade of the temple appear while Jacob was looking at Ben, obviously enjoying Ben's reaction.

“James will be leaving soon,” Jacob said.

“Can I stay with you?” Ben asked.

Jacob answered with a funny smile.

“Yes?” Ben said. Jacob was even more interesting than James, who was more interesting than the inhabitants, though all were a part of his plans.

“You are not the only one who has plans, Ben,” Jacob said.

Ben looked at him closely. “Are you reading my thoughts?” He asked.

“It is rare of you to let others know what you are thinking,” observed Jacob.

“Can you teach me how?”

**“Maybe later,” Jacob said. “When you've grown. You're going to live on this Island for a very long time, Ben. You will come to love the Island. But first, you must learn how to protect it.”**

**“Why?” Ben asked. “Is there someone after it?”**

**“Lots of people,” Jacob said. “They are out there, day after day, trying to find us. They want the Island's magic, Ben. It is powerful, and it also a source for good. But if they take it, the good will be lost. Do you understand?”**

**“Yes.” Ben was listening very closely, obviously intrigued.**

**“Once there was a woman, our mother, who guarded the Island. We are the guardians now. And you two...” he stopped, looking at James and back to Ben, “have _done something_...” They were listening again, the world around them.**

**“You know I mean to leave,” James broke the silence.**

**Ben was concerned. Here was someone who could read his thoughts, and knew what they had done.**

**“James is restless,” Jacob explained. “He feels the Island a burden rather than a gift. He feels tied down instead of chosen. I can only leave the Island because my intention is always to return. James has no such intention. He must stay where I stay. And so, James has to kill me to get away. But he cannot kill me, Ben. Only someone like you can kill me.”**

Ben was looking at James as Jacob spoke these last words. He could see the pain in him. He decided Jacob was telling the truth.

“I'm not thinking of killing you,” Ben said to Jacob.

“Good,” Jacob said, and James suddenly stood.

“There are a lot of rules here,” Ben observed.

Again Jacob laughed heartily, his head falling back, the birds becoming silent for several moments as his laughter echoed away into the muffled closeness under the trees.

“Goodbye, Ben,” James said, stretching, looking around, changing focus. Ben shot up from his seat in delight, running around the clearing, seeing everything again, all of it his new home.

James turned and walked back through the arch onto the beach and was gone.

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE: First you must grow up** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381619/)

Ben was somehow standing in the middle of the beach, watching all around him, though the others seemed to not see him. He watched this particular man, fascinated by him. He was confident, and strong. Other people asked him things, and he wished to help them.

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	75. First you must grow up

Jacob squinted at Ben, then motioned for him to follow him into the temple. The darkness was cool with a delicious little whisp of current to the air. Jacob watched as Ben slowed to look at the deities, then stopped. He was speechless. The air was thick with a sweet smoke, and a golden light rippled across the beings there, the play of shadow and light making them seem to move slightly.

Jacob smiled warmly when Ben looked back at him, motioning again for Ben to follow.

“I'm going to let you touch something, Ben,” Jacob said. “It usually isn't handled by anyone.” Jacob reached back in a deep shelf for a package. It was a decorative box wrapped in waxy paper and flattened herbs. The herbs fell to the floor as Jacob carefully unwound the wrapping, placing the box on the desk.

Ben stepped closer, wanting to know what was in such an exotic box. Jacob reached to Ben, and took his hand, placing it on the box.

The box disappeared. Ben felt himself falling forward, then down, down as though he would never stop. He called out: “Jacob!”

“Open your eyes, Ben,” he heard Jacob's voice at his ear, his quiet breathing, a man's intelligence joined with his own.

Ben opened his eyes and he saw a man. He was a brown man, with golden skin and long black curls. He was surrounded by a group of people who were in chaos, who seemed to have washed up on the beach. Parts of an airplane seemed to have washed up with them. He did not recognize the beach, though he knew this place was the Island.

Ben was somehow standing in the middle of the beach, watching all around him, though the others seemed to not see him. He watched this particular man, fascinated by him. He was confident, and strong. Other people asked him things, and he wished to help them.

Ben heard Jacob's voice at his ear, as though Ben was still standing next to him at the desk.

“Do you see this man, Ben? He will be coming to us, to me, Ben. He will love us. But first you must grow up.”

The scene faded and Ben was standing at the desk, the exotic box still unopened. Jacob simply smiled his benevolent smile, then stood to put the box away.

James returned the next day. Ben had slept in the bed, and Jacob had slept in the temple. Ben could just hear him whispering until he became quiet and slept at last with golden light from the oil lamps dancing around the perfect black canvas made by the doorway to the temple.

James and Jacob stood in front of the outside chairs, looking at each other, not speaking. Ben sat down at the table, watching the two men. He felt too old now to play with toys.

Something was going to happen.

Jacob reached to James, who stepped back a little. Jacob looked so sad that Ben wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say. Ben realized then that he cared about Jacob, and that he also cared about James, feelings he usually didn't acknowledge in himself. 

“Don't....” Jacob warned, and James looked away, his hands at his hips. He was thinking.

“Think, my brother.... what it will do to _him_.” Jacob gestured in Ben's direction, his face very serious.

“I'll hate you both,” James answered, but Ben could tell James wasn't being honest. _He doesn't hate Jacob. He loves him_ , Ben thought.

“Why are we going to leave?” Ben asked. “Why can't we stay here, James?”

Still they stood there. Something was about to happen.

Jacob lifted his hand again, reaching to James' face. James closed his eyes. Jacob touched his cheek.

“My brother...” Jacob said. “My love...” James opened his eyes.

“Let me go, Jacob.” James said. “You must let me go.”

“I know that you love me, James.”

“I know that I have to leave this Island. I hear the Roman Empire has been replaced a few times. There is nothing here for me.”

“You don't want to leave the Island, James. You want to leave me.”

There was a silence then. Ben thought these two men had never really talked about these matters before, or for a very long time. Why had they waited until there was so much pain between them?

James' voice became quiet, yet more strident. “I cannot love the way you do, Jacob. You are better than me. It hurts me... to love someone I cannot love enough. I cannot bear it.” The bell of truth seemed to toll once in the little clearing.

Jacob's voice held a new hope. “Your love will grow, my brother. If you will it, if you say _yes_ to the Island's requirement, it will relieve you of your darkness at last. You will be free.

“I cannot.” James said.

“The Island's requirement, James. Pay the debt, and claim your prize.”

“I will not.”

 _Jacob is the prize,_ Ben thought. _But what is a requirement?_

James' voice became louder. “Ben will grow to be your second, you know that it is so. Why do you keep me?”

“He will be yours as well.”

“ _Why_...??” James seemed to be wincing at this, at a forgotten truth he would not accept.

“Take Ben back to the them. He will return when he is a man.”

“My brother... please let me go.”

“I will not.”

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX: One of three** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57381637/)

_Why was I so easy to use?_ Sayid thought again, finding a new answer to add to the previous ones he had won from memory. _I wanted to die. And so, I chose the soul's death._

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	76. One of three

Sayid had remained a watchful presence in the quiet cave as Ben connected the moments of his life as a boy and then as a man, finding the larger pattern, his part in the play. He knew that his own psychic impressions of Ben's progress were important to follow and remember.

If Ben had served the Island, he also served himself in everything he did. He had killed more than once, and eventually claimed his place as leader. He had grown up manipulating others to do the things he could not do, things that the Island would not allow him. And Sayid had served no small part in the wider plans of Benjamin Linus.

But then Sayid also remembered. He saw himself slipping through the darkness, dressed for the Russian winter, his shoes crunching on the icy snow as he walked. He slipped through the gate of steel to find Ben waiting for him, an assassin returned. Ben was cruel in his casual revelation that they were done, that there were no more names, and that he had no further purpose for Sayid in his plans.

Sayid had killed the enemies of the Island, Ben's enemies, though he knew not which or both. There had been no honest assembly of skills and goals between them. There had been only dishonesty, and for Sayid a familiar numbness pierced by shame. They had been caught up together in each other's familiar agenda of hatred and murder, each for their own reasons.

 _Why was I so easy to use?_ Sayid thought again, finding a new answer to add to the previous ones he had won from memory. _I wanted to die. And so, I chose the soul's death._

Sayid remembered this long night of emptiness. His service to the Island had become the darkness in him again, the pressing down upon others, stealing their life force away. Their bodies lay where he dropped them, the smell of death a dark trail behind him as he found his way back to Ben, to the one who offered their names to him. Only their names. Sayid was free to choose the rest.

Then the killing was finished, and they had returned to the Island, Sayid went back to the camp of the survivors, and Ben to the inhabitants. Other survivors who had been off Island had returned as well. _We all return_ , Sayid thought. _Yes... A requirement for leaving._

The survivors were very happy to welcome Sayid back, and to have his help in the workings of the camp. He was quiet and withdrawn, but all who had returned had brought new burdens back with them. They pampered Sayid, giving him slightly more food, acknowledging his projects and progress around the camp. He returned to his role of protecting them from Ben's people, those they called the "Others.” There had been a skirmish that had reinforced the need to maintain a truce that was based upon no contact.

When Sayid returned, he found that they had lent his tent to someone who had kept it clean and dry, and he was so grateful and so suddenly tired that he dropped his things on the floor, then dropped onto the bed, instantly asleep.

He dreamed he awoke to find a strange man in his tent. He was no threat to Sayid, but he could not see his face.

He woke up from this dream, and rejoined the life of the survivors, finding his place in what they shared with each other to survive.

Then one day, Sayid had awakened to find a strange man in his tent. He came to love this man, his Jacob. He had come to love him, and one other.

He had become one of three.

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN: Deeper than deep** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57835888/)

“My James,” Sayid said, turning to look at his lover, smiling. “Tell me how you came to love Jacob, and chose to stay after wanting so much to leave.”

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	77. Deeper than deep

Ben was sleeping. Sayid caressed his cheek and spiky hair, slipping away, standing to look around at the sweet little cave.

He went outside, then returned, humming his little soldier song, looking down at Ben with happiness.

 _He is done_ , Sayid thought. _But there will be consequence_.

“I do not know his requirement.” Sayid said as James took his place at his side.

“Jacob...” James said, and Sayid answered.

“Jacob.”

They both admired Ben's sleep of bliss, his breathing soft. He had completed the internal work of shedding his _karmas_ , reliving all he had thought was his choice, and moving beyond, making his freedom a sure foundation for service.

“Where does the fire come from,?” Sayid wondered. “The fire comes and it is all burned away.”

“Jacob...” James said, and Sayid answered.

“Jacob.”

“I think I understand,” Sayid said at last. "I think I understand, James."

James was silent. Neither man moved.

James smiled to himself, savoring the moment. _He knows... at last he understands._

“My requirement...” Sayid began. “My requirement was to be _broken_ , like so many that of those I had broken. So many who were hopeless when I was done with them. I took their hope, then their lives. I had them burned, I had them put in the ground.” Sayid's voice had a twist of anguish, but also the smoothing sound of a new peace with his past, no longer a detriment to his acceptance of a life of service.

“My requirement was to _break_ you, my Say. To take you almost unto death.” James' voice was pulled slightly by the buried pain of that brutal errand, the requirement to return to love from hatred, to choose the willingness do anything for the Island, who would then take him back.

James was revisiting his own moment of clarity, a memory before Sayid came to the Island, before he knew what his requirement was. “You were called here by Jacob. You were brought by my need. _My hatred,_ Say... All of my hatred of Jacob and yearning to free myself from him; this hatred built up in me for many years longer than your life. I used this hatred to break you, to take away all hope, all but your life.”

They both understood and were satisfied that their requirements were just and meaningful, with a difficulty that matched their redemption.

“My James,” Sayid said, turning to look at his lover, smiling. “Tell me how you came to love Jacob, and chose to stay after wanting so much to leave.”

James looked back at Ben, and was silent for a time.

“Jay, my Jay...” Sayid pulled a little on James' hand. He led James out to sit on the ledge, the men settling in, gazing out to sea.

Sayid waited.

“I hated Jacob as a boy,” James began. “I hated him, and I loved him. I had given him my heart. When we grew older, I loved him so much that I felt I couldn't stand it. Whenever we were together, I followed Jacob's every move, his every word. He was my delight... _Oh how I loved him_.”

“And Jacob loved me. But his love was different, and I could not see it.” James stopped, and began scratching at the rocky ledge with a sharp stone, carving a design into the path, an ongoing project that he found relaxing.

“I loved him, Sayid. As I grew up, I understood less and less his love for me. I began to reject Jacob. At last I went away from him. I went to live with the inhabitants of the Island. They accepted me, as I seemed to be like them. I had become a man. But then they began to notice that I did not age.”

“I had been watching him, a certain boy who had come with his father to live on the Island. I knew that this boy was capable of murder, that he wanted to kill his father. He wished to kill all of them, and I delighted in his ruthless will. He would murder Jacob for me, and I could leave. We came to serve each other. We made our plans. He did not hesitate. I took him to Jacob. How blind I was, thinking we could decieve him. But he accepted him, and Ben began to speak for Jacob. He became the leader of the camp. Thereafter he defended me to them, saying that Jacob wished me to stay.

“But Jacob never abandoned me, Sayid. He wanted me. _He wanted me._ He appeared to me often, quietly asking me to return to him, trying to appeal to my heart. But my heart had become black with bitterness. I let my hate crowd out my love for him. I wanted to leave him forever, and to lose my need for him. I could not stand being trapped on the Island with him. I always found those outside seekers that found the Island, and I tried to leave with them, but Jacob would not allow it.”

 _I will say it all now,_ James thought, overcoming a practiced resistance, a closeness of what was most sacred. He leaned his shoulder against Sayid's and rested his head against Sayid's head, his hand on Sayid's knee.

“My Say....” James began, hesitating.

“Yes James,” Sayid said with affection.

“ _Jacob is the Island_ , Sayid. We serve Jacob. We serve him.”

The two men sat with their heads together, gazing out over the curve of the horizon, seeing there the ships that had found their way, picturing James revealing himself to them, promising much in return for passage, then Jacob welcoming or turning away the visitors _without James_ , always without James.

“Jacob loves me,” James felt in himself the truth of it. _Perhaps I really can say all of it this time_. He had only said pieces before, trying to make the words with Jacob, losing his way halfway through, falling into his brother's eyes when Jacob looked at James with love. 

“My Jacob has always loved me. There is no way in which he does not love me. I know now that when he is silent, he loves me. When his eyes are elsewhere. When he turns to me, and turns away. When he walks away, then he loves me. It is a perfect love that does not change, that depends on nothing, no matter the distance made nor time passed.”

"The day came, that day when I knew this, Sayid. I looked at him and _knew_. There..." James' voice broke, so that he almost whispered. "...there came a moment when I could not hate my Jacob anymore.”

Sayid rubbed James' knee affectionately, his shoulder wet with James' tears. 

“When I realized this truth, I was confounded. My entire life had become one built upon the desire to leave him, the necessity of destroying him in order to get away. I only knew that I had to leave the one who hurt me deeper than deep, day after day. The one I would have murdered if I could to gain my freedom. But the one I thought of as my enemy was the keeper of this place, and _one_ with its intelligence and will. Because of this... because of Jacob's love, after so many years, my willingness to love him opened the way for me to be healed."

Sayid was happy. How happy he was that love had brought them all together. He waited a moment. _I will ask,_ Sayid thought with joy. _And ask again. And now he will answer. He will tell me everything._

“Was there ever a time...” Sayid said the words with great care. “...when Jacob was not one with the Island?”

“Our mother before him, before us,” James smiled, and his gaze became that of a distance, one of great lengths of time. "My mother was the Island. The Island was my mother. It had always been so."

“Where is your mother?”

"She returned to the cave, to the source. It was her wish to be finally absorbed into the whole. This was after we became older, and she had given us the water from the cave. We became like her."

"But how did she conceive you?"

"She took a human as her lover. One who sought the Island. She sent him away without knowing of us. She eventually spoke of these things with us."

"Why is Jacob the one... the Island?"

“We were born together, but Jacob was the elder. Jacob was born first. When we both chose to drink, we became like mother. But Jacob's will was also absorbed into the will of the Island. He became one with the Island. I know now that this was a sacrifice. Jacob chose this. He allowed it to happen.” James' voice had become that of speaking of something almost too great to comprehend.

Sayid was quiet, feeling his understanding coming together. He felt the places in himself that connected at last, the meaning of his transformation completed by James' words.

It was a story of destiny, of the many many years of those who he had joined, his lovers, his beloved.

**[CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT: Tell me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57835906/) **

James nestled tight against Sayid's back, rocking him with each stroke, adding his hand to Sayid's, squeezing Sayid's hand around his cock, making the strokes longer, but not any faster. Sayid moaned, arching his back. James would not let Sayid pull his hand away, still pleasing him with it.

[](https://statcounter.com/)


	78. Tell me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is one more chapter after this one in the three-part series, 'Heart of the Island'

Sayid and James sat together outside of the little cave, waiting, listening for Ben. Which way would it go? They leaned against each other in long moments of shared bliss, the smaller movements communicating the bliss and hunger of new lovers, new again.

They heard Ben dressing, and their caresses became stronger, their anticipation quickening their movements. Ben emerged from the cave, stretching and squinting in the bright light.

“It's time for me to take a walk,” he said, smiling.

Sayid and James smiled back. He was going to Jacob.

After Ben walked down and disappeared around the base of the statue, the two men stood as one and walked through the cave to the quiet little bed area, dark and still. They came down onto the bed together, laying on their sides, cradling each other, rolling and hugging, caressing each other's face and hair as their lips came together, softly and sweetly, a quiet promise of love and making love.

Sayid caught James' eyes, sharing there the release from James' harrowing requirement, now dissolving in unexpected grace, the pain dissolving at last in recognition, in seeing himself in Sayid's eyes, in the knowledge that Sayid saw of himself in his languorous gaze.

“I love you, Sayid,” James said. Sayid was afraid James would slip back into apology, and he put his fingers on James' lips, drawing James's lips to his own with his other hand grasping James' hair, subtly communicating his need and his passion.

“My James, I will always love you.” Sayid's voice was a little closer to James' ear. _“I need you, James.”_

James rolled onto his back, the larger man, pulling Sayid on top of him. “Tell me....” he said, pushing against Sayid with his movements, his pulling caresses on his shoulders and buttocks.

“James...” Sayid was overcome, feeling their love so strong in the new place of honesty between them.

“You are so fine, your body so beautiful,” Sayid continued as they pushed against each other, grasping each others' erections, pulling and pushing, then slowing to thumb and forefinger in a loose motion, thrilling as their erections had pulled their foreskins completely taught, the motions efficient and perfectly pleasurable.

Sayid slid down on the bed. And James closed his eyes as Sayid took him in his mouth, sucking him in, sucking on the head with motions of his flat tongue. Sayid pushed his lips to the base of James' cock, and held him there as James put his hands on the bed and pushed deeper into Sayid for a moment. James began to move in and then out of Sayid's mouth, feeling Sayid's arm moving as Sayid was pleasuring himself.

James slowed, then pulled out of Sayid's mouth, turning Sayid over, sliding slowly downward against him, squeezing himself against Sayid's back. He lay on Sayid, who struggled to breathe from his weight. James spit several times into his hand, smoothing it onto himself, testing again his hardness with satisfaction and the pride of “doing,” of being the one who caused someone to “be done.”

He pushed into Sayid at a challenging speed, rocking up so he could enjoy Sayid's gasps as Sayid took him in, then pushed back onto James with a guttural sound of pleasure that drove James, who drove into Sayid with another fullness of passion that he rode all the way to the brink.

James stopped, pulling out, and Sayid's sounds were of frustration as James sat up and Sayid turned onto his side, his hand in a slow rhythm, the moans of tension finely built, with no hint yet of release. Sayid remembered then a moment when he was a teen and had tried over and over to satisfy himself, finding a physical release, but still seeking a relief he could not give to himself: the pleasure and pleasuring of another.

James nestled tight against Sayid's back, rocking him with each stroke, adding his hand to Sayid's, squeezing Sayid's hand around his cock, making the strokes longer, but not any faster. Sayid moaned, arching his back. James would not let Sayid pull his hand away, still pleasing him with it.

James kissed Sayid's hair and pushed his head against Sayid's, rocking it against him, communicating tenderness, profound closeness, a moment that had found them both and gave so much more than it asked. The world had stopped. They had become one.

Sayid arched tightly and became rigid, the pleasure stretching him taut, his body and skin and his penis all tightly held in the position of receiving pleasure, of allowing himself the simple movements of pleasure, to allow his lover to see his honest dance of physical sensation and need. There were only the motions, and the fire building.

“James... James...” Sayid whispered as if to himself as he arched further, held against James, who had changed his motions to be exactly those he knew Sayid would like, the ones that would drive him further when he went over the edge.

And Sayid was calling out, his cries the physical words of abandon, of the intense power of love become release, moving through him, moving and filling him, the pleasure reaching his hands, his feet, his face.

Sayid lay panting, his mind stopped. The day seemed very quiet as his breathing slowed and they lay together in a tender sprawl, James still cupping Sayid with his body.

After awhile, Sayid pushed onto his back and the two men shared a sweet kiss. “You will be next, my love,” Sayid promised in between kisses. He put his arm behind his head, finding the familiar patterns in the ceiling of rock. He heard the little soldiers' song in his mind and began to hum it to himself, smiling when James hummed a little of it as well, familiar with it from listening to Sayid.

“Jacob is coming,” James observed.

“Yes he is,” Sayid said, then: “What will be Ben's requirement?”

James said nothing. “We are one, now,” Sayid said, chastising James gently. “Tell me.”

“Not just now,” James asserted. They both relaxed back into the special place between them.

“You are wise, James,” Sayid said warmly.

“I am a lot older than you.”

“I know that, funny James.”

“You think I'm funny?”

“You are funny in a way that only very very old people can be.” Sayid said, laughing.

“Well, that's the part of me that younger people are allowed to see.”

“I see you. Funny James.”

“I see you, my beautiful, beautiful Sayid.”

[ **CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE: All these years**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23870869/chapters/57835927/)

“Let us go to find Jacob,” James said in a mysterious, excited voice that was full of excited anticipation.

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	79. All these years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #### The final chapter of 'The Heart of the Island'

  
_Brothers James and Jacob hundreds of years before Ben, and then Sayid, came to the Island_

“Let us go to find Jacob,” James said in a mysterious, excited voice that was full of excited anticipation.

“My love...” Sayid protested, reaching for James with a most playful fierceness.

“We will...” James said, smiling, kissing Sayid sweetly, looking into his eyes with a look that Sayid found unreadable, enigmatic.

“Old person,” Sayid complained, teasing James as they got up, breathing in a new sweetness as they left the cave, standing for a moment to look out at the horizon that surrounded the Island, their Island, before they continued down to the beach.

Jacob and Ben were coming towards them at the distant end of beach. James seemed both calm and excited to see them. Sayid felt something momentous was happening as he dutifully dug a little seat for himself in the sand, leaving the two makeshift chairs for Jacob and James, who greeted each other with a warm hug. Ben sat in the sand as well, glancing at Sayid, but not looking at James.

There was a long silence, which was not unusual for the brothers, who were never in a hurry.

“I have been rejected,” Ben spoke at last.

Ben said nothing more. There were three men looking out to sea, and four not feeling the need to speak.

Sayid looked at James, whose eyes were dark with sadness. A very old, weary sadness with a new mist of perfect release in them, as Sayid caught the very slight downward release of his head.

“Jacob has chosen me to give James something to do. A challenging project." Ben's darkest, self-absorbed sarcasm was perfect for this moment, but this skill was no comfort to him at all as he sat, looking up at the heights of the Island soaring behind the three brothers. For Ben knew that James would now enforce a new balance in the story of four.

“You are so close to being accepted, Ben.” Jacob's voice was even more enigmatic than usual, always the one who knew more. 

Finally Ben looked at James, studying him. James was calm and loving, openly sad, with no sign of the fierceness that went with his role as gatekeeper.

Ben let himself feel hope. _Maybe this feeling of a new life is real._

“What was your requirement, Ben?” Sayid words were very gentle, with love and concern for the suffering man.

“I am required to live off-Island,” Ben said at last, looking at Sayid with a steady gaze.

“Not to return?” Sayid asked.

“Without knowing...” Ben said.

The irony of Ben's requirement was not lost on James, who looked down at his shoes. _I wonder how many pairs of shoes I made when I thought I would leave this island behind_ , he thought. He looked at Ben again, seeing clearly the emptiness that he had carried all of his life, the place made in him for the call to the love of and service of an island, still empty of that love. _He cannot give his heart. He has failed the test._

Sayid was enchanted by the long gaze James had shared with Ben. Looking with James' eyes, he saw that _other_ being called Ben, not quite human. How had he not noticed before? Ben was old. Ben was more like James and Jacob than he had thought. Sayid had assumed that Ben was only as old as his years, still young because he was only now being tested again.

“Why did you fail, Ben?” Sayid said with a tenderness in his voice, wanting to soothe Ben's bitterness. 

Ben answered another question, one with an answer that was easier to put in words. “I cannot control that world, James. I can only control _this_ world." He looked out to sea at last, tilting his chin slightly towards the waves. "How can I cross this water to a place where I can only be one of many? A little being, forever apart. I have lived in that world. I know. You know me," he looked around. "Sayid knows. It is too much. My heart has rebelled. I cannot.... _leave_. I cannot live alone, knowing what I know. I belong here. I have never belonged there.”

"Ben." Jacob's voice was firm, a correction. Ben was very still, suddenly focused on Jacob, on his words. "Think of this. You cannot stay here _forever_ unless you have a choice. You must be able to choose both to truly choose one. And the Island has offered you that choice. Without the requirement, you stay without my love. To have my love, you must be willing to go and serve me in love. You must give me your heart. The Island knows that you are not yet willing.”

“You know these things...” Ben's voice was bitter.

Jacob smiled, so slightly.

“We all know that _you_ are the Island, Jacob.” Ben had found his usual sarcasm, moving the focus from himself, back to Jacob.

“I wasn't always, you know.” Jacob breathed as a creature remade with no boundaries, joined with an entity and power for good, hidden above and beneath the living ocean. Jacob let some of the fullness of that being show as he spoke.

"You have chosen me, Benjamin Linus," he said quietly. "You are mine."

Jacob's breaths seem to mellow, then slick past their ears with a flow and friction. All eyes were on Jacob's hands as he reached into his shirt and drew a cord over his head, handing it to Ben. Ben took it, feeling the weight of the little leather bag that was attached to the cord, warm from Jacob's body. Jacob's breathing was louder, a seeming liquid flutter at their ears, a wet warmth that _pushed_ inside.

Ben sat looking at this small, unadorned bag.

“Open it, Ben.” Jacob said.

Ben found and loosened the little leather drawstrings on the bag, turning it over onto his hand. He was silent, staring at his palm, utterly still.

The wind had stopped. All was silent.

“This will help you,” Jacob said. “You can choose, Ben. I know that you can choose with your heart.”

Ben was crying silently as he lightly nudged the little stones on his palm, shaking his head so slightly as he was suddenly transported back to a little boy trapped in a room, playing with rocks for toys.

“You knew me then?” he finally asked.

“I knew you because the Island knew you, and would someday bring you here. I knew of your suffering, Ben. I knew that you would come to the Island, that you would live and grow up here once the Island brought us together. I followed your father. I found you when your father found you." Jacob's voice became one of careful empathy. "It was too late to help your mother, Ben. I am so sorry."

Ben thought only of Jacob finding his little rocks, bending to pick them up, clasping them, keeping them. He felt perfect words flowing up from his heart at last, easily slipping past his usual defense of sarcasm and shifting loyalties.

“You have worn this, these... for me? All these years?” Ben was picturing himself and all the things he had done and been a part of on the Island, years passing as Jacob had kept a little part of him close to his heart. Ben put the rocks like treasures back into the pouch, tightening the little cords, slipping it over his neck, grasping the bag there, feeling its gentle weight. He felt like his entire life had been rewritten.

Ben realized at last that he was crying.

“I thought.... no one ever knew about my room... my mother. That I was there... forever alone.” Ben said softly, still weeping. It felt so strange to him to simply talk, without seeking a strategic advantage, without a certain veiling of his real intentions.

“You will never be alone, Ben. You are one of four. And we are one.”

Ben stared at Jacob, his body rigid. _Could it be...? I will stay here forever with you, my beloved?_

“You are one with your heart, Ben. You have met the requirement.” Jacob reached for a glass flask from the net at his side and offered it to Ben.

Ben was holding the little pouch against his heart, feeling the immense strength of an inner push, the strength to reach for his destiny. He reached with his other hand, grasping the flask with his eyes on Jacob, only for Jacob.

Jacob tilted his head back slightly, smiling. Ben loved his eyes; eyes that sparkled. Magic.

Ben took a long drink, then handed the flask back to Jacob, who took great pleasure in watching Ben, obviously stirring inside as he was entirely remade, thrilling at the soft look upon Ben's face, one of finding the greatest treasure, one that cannot be diminished or lost.

Jacob looked at Sayid, then at James, before he reached to Ben, grasping his shoulder with great affection.

“Now you are like us, Ben. Now you are like me.”

  
  


__

# So ends the Heart of the Island Trilogy

#### Thank you for sharing this little portion of four sweet brothers' forever.

####  _~~ Please leave a comment and kudos ~~_

[ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868891/chapters/35337951)

## Read my m/m slash fanfiction novel

#  [Dark Shadows Play](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868891/chapters/35337951/)

#### based upon the original TV series 'Dark Shadows'

#### By Shadowsplay

[ ](https://statcounter.com/)


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